


Molting Expectations

by tricia_16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Mating Season, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Police Officer Dean Winchester, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Nest, Slow Burn, Trauma, Virgin Castiel, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Wing Oil, Wing Oil As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-08-06 00:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 163,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16378316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricia_16/pseuds/tricia_16
Summary: After having trouble coping with a traumatic incident on the job, Dean takes his little brother's advice and leaves everything behind to go stay at the old family cabin in Colorado. Nobody's been there for years so it needs some major work, but it's secluded, and that turns out to be exactly what Dean needs in order to start to feel at peace again.Now in the mountains with nothing but nature to amuse himself with, he takes up bird watching and plans a hike into the mountain range across from his cabin in search of a golden eagle. High up in the mountains, he discovers human footprints. Thinking someone is in danger, he follows them into a cave and quickly becomes familiar with a form of wildlife he never could have imagined: winged people who call themselves angels.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a very different story for me to take on. It took a lot of research about birds, feathers, and wings, and then still required me to make up a lot about angels in order to write. Please remember as you read that while I won't pretend to be a bird expert, I did my best to make this as realistic as I could :)
> 
> With all that said, strap in and enjoy the ride!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

Dean Winchester pulls his 1967 Chevy Impala into the makeshift dirt driveway with a wince as she bounces and bangs her way over too many potholes to avoid. Finally easing her into to a stop, he gives the wheel a loving caress and croons, “Sorry, baby.”

One foot swings out of the car, the gravel crunching under it before he unfolds the rest of his stiff body from the driver’s seat. The air’s crisp and cool even with his heavy flannel on, and he’s already thankful he allowed himself to be talked into the polar fleece the hot salesman recommended at the sporting goods store.

That was the closest thing to action he’s had in more than a year, he thinks bitterly.

Shaking off that depressing thought, he focuses on where he is. He’d guess it’s probably no more than fifty-five degrees out here now that the sun’s starting to set at six in the evening. He lifts one foot after the other into his waiting hand, stretching out his legs with a grunt before he raises his hands up and over his head into a long, languid stretch. His body relaxes afterwards with a sigh, and finally, he takes in the sight of the cabin ahead of him.

It’s a few yards down a steep hill, log cabin style, with a shed and a stack of firewood across from it off to his left. The windows are boarded up and he can already imagine just how cold it’s going to be inside. With a sigh, he closes the car door and digs in his pocket for the key to the cabin that hasn’t moved off of the hook on his wall since he first put it there when he bought his house twelve years ago. The day after he got the job on the police force.

He pushes the thought down along with the familiar dread and shame beginning to twist in his stomach and heads into the cabin to start a fire before he goes back for his stuff. Knowing he’ll probably need them, he scoops up some twigs on his way in. The door is stiff from disuse, but he shoulders his way through it into the shadows and stale, frigid air. A glance at the wall thermometer shows him it’s just over forty-five degrees in here. He leaves the door open behind him to let a sliver of light inside and crosses through the small kitchen and into the living room where the fireplace is. After checking that the chimney is clear of debris (and animals) he opens the damper. He knocks a layer of dust off of the log on the top of the pile and places it on the bottom of the fireplace. He takes another and lays it beside it, leaving a place in between for kindling. When a third log is placed across the other two, he crumples some of the newspaper already next to the logs to stuff between them, then places the twigs on top of that. He rubs his hands together to try to warm them up before he lights the newspaper and stands back to watch it catch, waiting to hear the tell-tale crackling to know it’s really going.

Feeling the flood of warmth hit his body is heavenly, and he indulges himself by standing there warming his hands on the fire and inhaling the signature scent of burning wood. Once he’s sufficiently warm, he walks over to the big patio door and starts removing the boards so he can see without leaving the door open. He grimaces as he feels spider webs catch on his hands and praises his brilliance for the foresight to bring pesticide with him. Apparently he’s gonna need it. He decides to pull down the rest of the boards in the living room before he does the same thing in the two small bedrooms (one with a king sized bed and almost no remaining floor space, and the other with bunk beds) and dresses the king bed with sheets he finds in the linen closet beside the bathroom. Which reminds him he should look around for the water shut off valve.

He finds it behind the house along with the main circuit breaker for electricity, and turns them both on with his heart in his throat. The last thing he needs is to blow up the freaking cottage. Not hearing anything other than a quiet hum of the electricity now fueling the cottage, he grabs the food from the car on his way back in with an almost foreign sense of accomplishment.

He can't work, maintain a relationship with his brother, Sam, or keep his shit together long enough to be in a romantic relationship, but he  _can_ get this cabin habitable.

While he waits for the fridge to get cold, he puts away the dry stuff first, both surprised and relieved when he doesn’t find anything living in any of the cupboards. He leaves the beer out on the front deck, knowing it’s cold enough out there to keep it cool, then starts putting away the clothes that fit into the small dresser in his bedroom and hangs up what’s left in the closet. Once that’s done, he finds the broom and clears away the dust from everything he can before dumping the heaping dustpan outside. He washes the grime off of the windows next, sprays for spiders, sets a couple of mouse traps (just in case) and finally goes out to the car to lug his cooler in from the trunk. Some of the food needs to get in the freezer before it spoils, so he doesn’t dawdle. He puts that stuff away, silently thanking whoever was last in the fridge/freezer combo for leaving it completely clean so it isn’t funky smelling or full of who knows how old food rotting.

This is already more than he's accomplished in three entire months, and he's about to collapse onto the old, plaid, overstuffed couch when he sees that too is covered in a layer of dust, so he hauls the cushions out to the deck and beats them until the clouds coming from them mostly disappear. Since he’s out there, he grabs a beer on the way in and _then_ collapses onto the couch with his feet up on the coffee table with a heavy sigh.

He knew it would be a bitch to get the cottage up and running, but with that and the ten hour drive it took to get here, he’s freakin’ beat. Might also have something to do with how he can't remember the last time he had a full night's sleep, but he's pretty much resigned to thinking that's the new norm so he doesn't bother dwelling on it. He nurses his beer slowly, using the time to convince himself to fix a PB&J sandwich before he passes out for the night. He scarfs down a couple of sandwiches, sends a text to Sam to let him know he’s all settled in, and climbs into bed.

He lies there for way too long, wondering why the hell he thought running away from his problems would make sleeping any easier. Probably had something to do with the way Sam wouldn’t shut up about taking a break and getting away from everything for a while, he reminds himself. It doesn’t help that instead of the steady sound of city life, the occasional car driving by, and people on the street, it’s absolutely silent in the cabin. All he can hear is the old wooden walls occasionally creaking around him, the trees rustling in the breeze, and his own thoughts circling in the dark. Exhaustion eventually overtakes him more quickly than at home, but it’s still far from a peaceful sleep.

_Dean’s heart is racing in his chest, but his hands are steady and sure where he grips his standard issue Glock 17. The kid standing in the middle of the poorly lit Gas ‘n’ Sip parking lot in front of him is staring him down with wide, glassy eyes, and sunken in cheeks. Dean knows without a field sobriety test that the kid is high. That only makes the entire situation more dangerous because he has no idea how he’s going to react._

_“Show me your hands,” Dean commands, his voice loud and clear._

_Instead of following his orders, the kid’s hands dart behind his back as he takes another step closer, putting them less than twenty feet apart. Dean steps to the side to take cover behind his open cruiser door._

_“Hey! Let me see your hands!” Dean orders._

_The kid smiles and raises a gun into the air. Dean’s heart falls into his stomach._

_“Drop the gun and get on the ground with your hands behind your back,” he shouts forcefully._

_The gun’s still pointing in the air, and the kid’s smile only grows. “You gonna shoot me, officer?”_

_“I don’t want to shoot you, but you need to put the gun down and get on the ground with your hands behind your back.”_

_He spies his partner, Jo, (who’d just run into the store to get them both some coffee) out of the corner of his eye when she comes out the Gas ‘n’ Sip door with a tray in her hand, and sees the exact second the kid whirls around to face her._

_“Drop the gun!” he yells again, but instead, the kid lowers it down from over his head and points it in Jo’s direction. He sees the stark fear on Jo’s face, has a fraction of a second to second guess himself, and then he aims his gun at center mass the way he was trained to and fires at another human being for the first time in twelve years._

_He doesn’t hear the gunshot. Doesn’t hear the sound the kid must make when the bullet hits him in the middle of his chest. Deep down somewhere, he realizes he just shot another person, but it doesn’t feel real. Why didn’t he hear the gun go off? It should have been loud. He feels like his brain has to play catch up, and the next thing he knows, he’s watching the way the kid’s body jerks as the gun falls from out of his hand and bounces against the pavement._

_Bounces._

_Guns don’t bounce._

_Why did the gun bounce?_

_He approaches the kid while Jo does the same from the opposite direction, now with her own gun drawn as well. He’s closer, so he takes her cover while he calls it into the station using the hand radio clipped to his chest. He kicks the gun away like he’s supposed to, feeling bile rise in his throat when he sees the toy, plastic gun on the ground._

_The kid didn’t have a real gun._

_He wasn’t going to shoot Jo._

_Dean didn’t have to shoot him._

_“It’s not real,” he croaks, looking up at Jo with wide eyes._

_“Work the scene,” she answers calmly, but he can’t. He’s frozen. He can’t move. He can’t_ breathe. _There’s a human being a few feet away either dying or already dead because he shot him. When he turns his head to look to see if they can save him, he sees a river of blood spreading red and wet along the sidewalk, and Sam’s dead eyes looking back at him._

He jolts up in bed with a strangled cry caught in his throat and immediately starts working on dragging in heavy breaths to clear his head. _Shit, shit, shit._ Another fucking dream. His body is covered in a thin sheet of sweat and his hands are trembling. At least he doesn’t feel like he’s going to barf this time.

It’s been three months since the shooting, and so far, no amount of counselling or being told by his superiors that he did everything by the book has been able to ease his conscience. It only got worse when he learned through the news that the kid shared a birthday with Sam. Now the two of them are all tied together in his brain and he can hardly think of the kid dead without picturing his brother the same way.

He couldn’t avoid all of the social media posts from the kid’s friends, his fucking parents, the girl he loved before he started loving drugs more. He read them all and then barfed his guts out and smashed his laptop in a fit of rage. All he could think about was if it hadn’t been for him, if he had just waited another second to shoot, that kid would still be alive.

He can practically hear Jo’s voice in his ear, the voice of reason from the very first moment right up until he saw her waving in the rear-view mirror as he pulled out of his driveway that morning, telling him he did nothing wrong. His hands itch for a shot of whiskey (or two or three), but being all too aware of how quickly that was becoming a habit, he made the smart choice not to bring any with him. Or at least it had seemed smart at the time. He’s kicking himself for it now. But at least his heart isn’t racing anymore and the sweat is beginning to cool on his skin.

He gets up to drink down a glass of water to wet his desert-dry mouth, then lays back down in bed. He starts tapping the rhythm to Led Zeppelin’s _Ramble On_ on his thigh and the lyrics flow through his head.

 _The autumn moon lights my way_  
  
_For now I smell the rain_  
_And with it pain_  
_And it's headed my way_  
  
_Ah, sometimes I grow so tired_  
_But I know I've got one thing I got to do_  
  
_Ramble on_

 

The next time he wakes, it’s to sun streaming in through the curtains and honest to god birds chirping. It’s quaint enough to put a small smile on his face before coffee, which is almost unheard of. He rolls over to grab his phone off his nightstand and his jaw unhinges when he sees it’s after ten in the morning. He hasn’t slept that late in years, and definitely not since he’s been off work.

Maybe Sammy was right when he said being out here and away from everything else might be good for him. Not that he’s going to tell him that or anything, he thinks with a grin. He walks blindly into the kitchen to start up the ancient coffee maker, then once he feels the cool air begin to seep into his bare skin, turns right back to his room to throw on a pair of sweats and a hoodie. He starts the fire again and finally pours himself a cup of coffee in the biggest mug he can find.

Since he can see the sun steadily rising in the sky out the big patio door leading to the deck, he grabs a blanket from the linen closet, pulls open the door, and steps out into the cold and onto the deck. Though his first thought is that it’s freakin’ freezing out here, he has to admit that it’s gorgeous, too. The sun is warm on his face compared to the cold morning air, and he closes his eyes to soak it up for a minute or two before he buries his face in the mug his hands are wrapped around. He grabs one of the Adirondack chairs that was left on the deck, and after giving it a cursory glance for creepy crawlies, he sits down with the blanket wrapped around him like a burrito.

Breathing in the cold, clean air, he takes in the sight of the mountain range reflecting on the lake. Though it isn’t surprising that a Kansas boy is shocked and awed by the mountains in Colorado, he finds that he can’t stop staring at them anyway. Because his brother’s a nerd, he knows the highest mountain range in Kansas is only four thousand feet, and the huge line of mountains in front of him have gotta be two or three times that. So with absolutely nothing waiting for him to do, nobody there to check on him, and no TV or internet blaring at him about either his case or yet another shooting that’s gonna send him spiraling right back to the life-altering moment when he was forced to shoot another human... he feels calm.

He’s so surprised with the newness of the feeling that he almost doesn’t recognize it at first. It’s _weird._ He knows for damn sure the closest he’s felt to calm in the last three months is numb, but that’s not nearly as freeing as this is right now. It won’t last, he knows that much, but he basks in it while he can. He sits there silently, watching the birds flying from branch to branch and the squirrels and chipmunks stocking up on acorns that have fallen to the ground. He stays while they scurry up tree trunks faster than he ever would have imagined and finishes his coffee. With nothing else better to do and wanting nothing more than to stay right here in this little patch of the closest thing he’s felt to happy in the last ninety days, he ends up sitting out long after his coffee is gone. It’s kinda nice not to be in a rush for once.

Eventually, he gets up to make himself a bagel smeared with strawberry cream cheese and a second cup of coffee. He eats it standing at the kitchen counter, then changes into some work out clothes and his runners, grabs a water bottle and his iPod, and takes off in search of a trail to run. He may not be on active duty anymore ( _because you fell apart and got put on paid leave_ , his unhelpful mind reminds him), but he does need to stay in shape, and considering he’s nowhere near a gym, the trails are the best thing he has available to him. It takes about twenty minutes to find a path he thinks he can run on without killing himself, and after stretching, he takes off down it at a jog, trusting his footprints to be enough to lead him back. It doesn’t take long before he’s at a full run, already having abandoned his iPod in favor of listening to the sound of his feet pounding steadily on the fallen leaves and dirt. There’s so much to see that he doesn’t match his usual pace, but he runs a mile and a half more than his usual distance on the treadmill, so he figures it probably balances out pretty close.

Once he makes his way back, he showers and redresses in jeans, a black undershirt, and a warm long-sleeved Henley, then starts the job of cleaning up outside. He brushes off the other chairs, kills a handful of spiders and some creepy looking fucker with antennas that he does his best to pretend doesn’t actually exist after he squishes it so thoroughly it’s basically liquid, then heads to the shed to see what’s waiting for him in there.

He almost cries when he sees an old charcoal barbecue. He’s smiling when he thinks about how well he’s going to be able to cook those steaks he splurged on. It takes him a while to clean that up (more spiders he doesn’t want to think about) and by the time it’s late afternoon, he’s warmed up enough to ditch the Henley. He fishes a glass table out of the shed that he can eat on outside and some lights he can string up so he can stay out there after it gets dark. Those two tasks take him to six o’clock, so he goes inside to wash up before he starts making himself a late dinner.

Once everything is cooked to perfection on the barbecue, he eats outside under the glowing lights he installed with a cool bottle of beer and the satisfaction of a productive day deep in his bones. He finishes the night off with a movie chosen from the pile of old VHS tapes stacked up next to the ancient tube TV, and is curled up under the blankets and fast asleep just over twelve hours after he woke up.

He wakes twice with nightmares, but neither of them were quite as bad as the night before. One was a replay of the scene, except in the dream, Dean didn’t shoot the kid and the kid shot Jo instead. The second one was a replay of returning to work the morning after the shooting, only worse.

Honestly, it was bad enough as it was. Some of the senior officers who’d been on the job a lot longer than him tried to tell him he was trigger happy and never should’ve shot that fast. Other officers asked him to retell the story over and over, some with a blood-thirsty gleam in their eyes he wishes he could convince himself to forget. Then there was the horror he felt every time he told the story and remembered a new detail - _shit,_ he had said in his report that he told the kid to put his hands up when really he said, “Show me your hands.” For a long time, he thought if he didn’t get every single detail right they would think he was lying about everything. Reliving the moment over and over became the norm for him, and soon enough, he couldn’t focus on anything but that day. He hated to think about it but couldn’t stop from obsessing over it.

In his dream though, it wasn’t just the old crotchety men who were giving him a hard time, it was everybody. The police chief, the people he looked up to most on the force, some of his best friends, even Jo. All of them looking at him with disgust and judgement, pointing fingers at him, and not a single one of them stopping long enough to hear his side of the story. His worst nightmare.

Thankfully that hadn’t been the case. His story and his actions had held up under the intense scrutiny of both the internal police department investigation _and_ in the criminal case. His dash cam had been a big reason for that. It showed him clearly identifying himself and following police procedure by not shooting until he believed another person was in danger. Zooming in on the weapon even showed that there was no way for Dean to have known it wasn’t a real gun.

Not that any of that helps him to sleep at night.

His second day at the cabin is spent a lot like the first: sitting outside with his morning coffee, going for a run, showering, and working outside in the afternoon. Even though he already did his run that morning, the temperature spikes to seventy in the afternoon and it’s absolutely gorgeous out, so he walks the trails again with the goal of clearing them a little bit. He brings an ax with him to chop down some of the longer branches that he’s dodged the last two days, moves some of the bigger rocks, and fills in what holes he can so he doesn’t accidentally step in one and wind up on his ass. It takes the majority of the afternoon and by dinner time, he’s starving. He grills up one of the steaks he brought and a baked potato, and he’s perfectly content sitting out on the deck by himself again that night.

It’s strange when he thinks about how he’s more isolated and cut off from the world than he’s ever been in his adult life, but he doesn’t feel lonely at all. He actually feels at home out here in the woods with the mountains and nature surrounding him. He takes it one day at a time, and before he knows it, he’s been out here for two weeks and it’s nearing the end of October.

That’s when he spots his first big ass bird.

He’d made it to his newly discovered and favorite rest-spot half way through his run, which is basically the grassy edge of a cliff. He’s plopped down on the ground stretching out his legs and drinking some water when he sees it.

He doesn’t know shit about birds, but if he had to make a guess, he’d say it looks like an eagle. He watches with his jaw unhinged as the thing torpedoes though the sky after a smaller and unlucky bird, if the way it’s closing in on it is anything to go by. Once the eagle is within striking distance, it changes mid-flight to feet first, and Dean winces when it catches the little bird in its talons.

_That’s gotta hurt._

Then the eagle slows down his descent and starts flapping his wings, rising up in the air. His wings are freaking _huge._ It’s gotta have a wingspan of almost six feet, if he’s judging the distance and size well. Those wings are gorgeous too. They’re black and brown on top, and as it flies higher and higher, Dean can see white and brown speckles underneath. He decides to keep an eye out for lost feathers on the next leg of his run, thinking that’d be cool to find.

He thinks about that eagle and how cool it was to see it in action so much over the next few days that when he travels into the closest town to replenish his food supplies so he can stop eating out of cans, he asks the grocer about eagles. The older man shows him to a guide on birds in the area, and considering he’s got nothing else better to do, he buys it along with a pair of binoculars.

Slowly but surely, bird watching becomes a project for him. He checks off each new species he sees one after another in his book with a sense of accomplishment, and when he reads that he would see different species the higher he goes up in the mountains, he starts spending his afternoons hiking longer distances to prepare for a big hike before the snow starts falling.

The more into the outdoors he finds himself getting, the more he distances himself from anything back at home. He went from talking to Sam every day to every few days, and now only once every few weeks. He likes to check in to see what’s going on with Sam and to make sure he doesn’t miss anything big in his life, but he doesn’t have much to say himself, so the phone calls never last long. Sam says he worries about him out there all by himself, but by the time they hang up he always comments on how much better Dean sounds, so he hopes their phone calls put him at ease, even if they are few and far between now.

It’s the second Thursday in November when he can’t possibly hold himself back from his big hike anymore. He packs himself a small bag with some granola bars, lunch, a bunch of water and more water purification tablets than he’ll ever need, a light waterproof windbreaker to wear over his layers in case he gets chilled from the mountain air, a compass and a map, a first aid kit, a flashlight, a lighter, and a knife he found around the cabin he took a liking to. With all of that in his pack, he feels like he’s as prepared as he can be. The sky looks clear, the sun is shining down, and because he’s dressed appropriately, 50 degrees feels comfortable when he first steps outside. His weather app predicts the temperature will rise to closer to 60 this afternoon, but he can take off a layer if he gets too warm from the combination of the sun and exertion.

He drives the Impala around the lake to the bottom of the mountain he wants to climb. He’s scoped out his route more than a few times, so he knows the exact spot he wants to park. Considering it’s a Thursday in November, he isn’t likely to come across many other people hiking these mountains to begin with, but he prefers his solitude anyway. He parks down a dirt road that looks like it hasn’t seen traffic in a while - which is perfect for him - grabs his bag out of the trunk and starts his trek. The entire goal for today (other than his workout) is to find a golden eagle. They’re not supposed to be uncommon, but he hasn’t spotted one yet, and he knows from the research he’s done that they’re most likely to be found on cliffs.

It’s nine in the morning, and his plan is to hike until noon where he’ll stop for lunch before he makes his way back down so there’s no chance of him having to hike alone in the dark. Even if it takes a little bit longer to get down (assuming he’ll be tired by then) he should still make it back to his Baby by five when the sun starts to set. His enthusiasm and excitement provides him with a brisk and steady pace until his phone goes off at 10:30, telling him it’s time to take a break. He walks until he finds a smooth enough section of rock to sit on, stretches out his legs, drops his backpack, and takes a seat to have a granola bar and some water.

Once he’s feeling sufficiently refreshed, he stands to take some photos from the edge of a cliff. The view is absolutely breathtaking, and he’s only half as high as he wants to go. He takes photos of the drop, the view, and he even turns himself around and takes a few photos of himself with the view behind him. Ready to go again, he sets off. He can hear plenty of wildlife around him, but other than the occasional glimpse of a squirrel and what he’s pretty sure is a spotted sandpiper (which he gets to check off of his list for the first time), he’s disappointed when he doesn’t see anything more than what he usually does in the woods by his cottage. He still has a ways to go, though, he tells himself.

As the sun heats up, he loses his polar fleece, and the air through his long-sleeved waffle knit shirt is enough to invigorate him all over again. He feels good.  

It’s right after his next break that he first sees what look like footprints. Human footprints. It’s weird enough that there’s somebody else out here recently enough for him to see footprints, but a whole other can of weird that the person doesn’t appear to be wearing shoes. He feels a familiar sense of duty creep under his skin when he wonders if maybe somebody’s stranded out here, hurt and alone. Even knowing there’s a good chance of scaring away the golden eagle he’s searching for, he calls out just in case.

“Hello?” he shouts. “Anybody out here?”

There’s no answer, but he continues to follow the footprints anyway. He loses them for yards at a time only to find them pick up again, and he figures the wind must have blown the others away. He’s so busy concentrating on the footprints that he doesn’t really notice when the sky starts to cloud over until he realizes he’s way colder than he was a few minutes ago. Looking up, he sees the sun almost completely covered by a dark grey cloud, and he’s frowning when he pulls his fleece back on. It was supposed to be sunny and warm all day - he checked _a lot._

He continues to call out in case somebody is in trouble and isn’t able to come to him, listening carefully for any kind of response. The footprints keep disappearing and reappearing, and he can’t think of any rhyme or reason for it, or for the way some of them seem to drag along the dirt, but his gut is telling him something ain’t right.

Though the footprints vanish for the longest span of distance so far, he spies a rock formation ahead that appears to have an opening. _A cave._ If he were lost out here and hurt, waiting for someone to come find him, he’d probably take cover in a cave, too. Especially when the weather turns unexpectedly like it seems to be right now, he thinks, looking up at the steadily darkening sky.

“Hello?” he calls into the mouth of the cave. It’s pitch dark inside and he can’t see a thing.

He knows there isn’t a lot of large wildlife left out here, but there’s still a chance there could be some kind of big cat or something else equally frightening hiding out in the cave (if there isn’t a person inside). But he also can’t _not_ check it out in case somebody is in there. The footprints lead him to believe there’s a good chance there is.

He stops to pull his flashlight out of his bag, then hitches it back onto his shoulders. With his knife in one hand and his flashlight in the other, he dips his head to enter the mouth of the cave. He's pleasantly surprised when after a few steps, he can stand straight without hitting his head on the roof. He flicks his flashlight on and sweeps it along the floor of the cave, not seeing anything other than more footprints.

“If anybody’s in here, my name’s Dean. I’m a police officer, and I’m not going to hurt you,” he says gently, just in case the person is in fight mode. He keeps moving his flashlight from side to side, letting the beam of light guide him and reassure him that he doesn’t see anything or anybody. The footprints are more pronounced and closer together in here than he’s seen them so far, but there are also prints leading out of the cave, so he knows there’s a chance the person has left already. He just hopes he doesn’t find a dead body. That’s the last fucking thing he needs right now.

The first thing he sees that has him feeling certain he’s found the person’s makeshift home is the remains of a fire. Not even just a fire, but a fire pit. As if somebody has been having fires here for months considering how black the cave floor is under the logs. There’s thin, metal poles leaning up against the wall, sharpened on both ends, and Dean’s reminded of when him, his dad, and his brother used to cook over a campfire using the same kind of skewers. How the hell would somebody have those to cook on out here? Unless the person planned to camp out for a while when they got stuck?

He moves the flashlight away from the wall of the cave back to the middle to try to see how deep the cave goes, and that’s when a beam of light falls on _gigantic_ black wings spread wide and menacing and a flash of white teeth. A hiss-like growl echoes through the cave, causing him to stumble backwards with a shout of surprise, and he turns and runs like a bat out of hell as far away as he can get from whatever the hell kind of bird that thing was.

He bursts out of the cave and is immediately pelted with rain drops - just fucking great. Once he gets around the lip of the cave and out of the path of danger in case the thing comes chasing after him, he drops his pack to the ground and crouches to dig out his windbreaker. He’s breathing hard from a combination of his sprint and fear when he hears the unmistakable crunch of gravel behind him. Thinking whatever was in the cave has come out after him, he begins to turn with his knife held in his hand, but the sight before him is enough to make his jaw drop.

There’s a man and a woman standing no less than six feet in front of him... but they have wings. The woman’s wings are white with grey threaded throughout and at the edges, and the man’s are the opposite, grey with white patches and tips. Both sets of wings are spread out, each a good fifteen feet wide and arching way over their heads, and the man is crouched threateningly in front of the woman.

When he manages to look past the wings, he notices the man is slightly chubby with haphazard curly hair. He’s only wearing a little Tarzan-like cloth hanging over his crotch, and Dean has a split second to think he must be freezing his ass off before he decides on a plan of action. As Dean straightens up completely, the man’s wings curl back around the woman defensively and Dean holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

He makes sure his voice comes out soft and soothing when he says, “Just take it easy, okay? I don’t wanna fight.”

The man’s eyes go wide and he lunges a few feet forwards, snapping his teeth like some kind of wild dog or something, while the woman behind him starts growling a lot like what he heard in the cave. What the hell _are_ these things?

“Can you talk? Do you know what I’m saying?” Dean asks next.

 _“Human,”_ the male spits at him. “Your kind aren’t welcome here.”

“I get it, and I don’t wanna be here anymore than you want me to be here, believe me,” Dean answers. “So how about I just go, okay? You don’t - you know - eat me or whatever, and I’ll just walk away and never come back.”

“I don’t think so,” the man disagrees, and before Dean can so much as lift his hand to defend himself, the man has flapped his wings and has Dean pinned to the cave wall. His head slams backwards and he sees stars at the same moment his knees go weak and the world starts spinning. The winged man has both hands wrapped around his neck - _shit_ _,_ his skin is warm - and though Dean tries to concentrate enough to use the self defense he learned in order to become a cop, his brain feels clouded with fog. He lifts his arm up and tries to bring it down to break his hold, but that’s when he hears the woman scream.

“Let him go.” It’s said in a low voice as rough as sandpaper, and while he can’t see past the wings to know for certain, he’s pretty damn sure there’s a third _thing_ out here with them now.

“Aren’t you enough of an embarrassment to our kind already? Now you’re going to defend _a human_ from encroaching on our land when we’re most vulnerable to attacks?” the first man asks. His hand goes slack on Dean’s throat while he speaks and he takes advantage of being able to talk again.

“Hey, I had no idea -” Dean tries to explain, but his words are cut off along with his oxygen all over again.

 _“Let. Him. Go,”_ the third thing repeats, and this time Dean’s ready for it when the man’s hand loosens. He brings his knee up fast and hard between the other man’s legs, and when he predictably doubles over, he grabs him by the wrist and twists his arm behind his back in a move so practiced he could perform it in his sleep. He spins them with more ease than he would have predicted considering the size of the other man, forcing the man face-first against the cave wall. When the guy’s wings start flapping in an attempt to knock him off, Dean flattens his body against the man’s to keep him in place.

 _“No!_ Please don’t hurt him!” the woman yells.

“Seriously?” Dean says incredulously, his throat burning. “He was going to choke me to death!”

“He was just trying to protect me!”

“From what? I wasn’t gonna hurt you!” Dean insists.

“That’s what you all say,” she says, her voice laden with disbelief.

Dean finally turns to look at her, and that’s when he sees the hottest guy he’s ever seen in his freaking _life_ standing there behind her. He has a mess of dark hair looking windswept and tousled, bright, piercing eyes, pink lips, and _holy shit_ is this dude ripped. The raindrops shining on his tanned skin makes it look like his chest was carved out of marble. He’s only wearing a Tarzan cloth, too, but he wears it a hell of a lot better than the chubby guy does. It’s a few long seconds before Dean is able to drag his eyes away from his chiseled chest to notice how the guy has one hand on the girl’s back between her shoulder blades - between her wings - and it seems like whatever he’s doing has her wings stuck in position even as she keeps wiggling her shoulders. Though her wings are spread wide, he can still see the hot guy’s wings behind her: jet black and much larger than the woman’s. He must have been the thing that scared him out of the cave.

“Now what?” Dean asks the hot guy.

“I _should_ mark your mate to let everybody know that this human and I overpowered you,” the hot guy growls to the other guy.

“No, Cassie, please,” the man begs. “I’ll do anything!”

The hot guy holds eye contact with the man Dean’s restraining, his gaze smouldering hot and his jaw sharp as glass. While Dean watches the hot guy and waits for instructions, he notices for the first time that it isn’t raining anymore. Finally, hot guy’s eyes flick to Dean and he says, “Release him.”

“Seriously?” Dean asks.

“You won’t harm him, will you Metatron?” hot guy asks menacingly.

“No! No, of course not. As long as you let Naomi go,” Metatron bargains.

The hot guy moves his hand from where it was on Naomi’s back, and she flies to cross to Metatron, so Dean lets him go like he was asked to while he tries to make sense of the fact he just saw a woman _fly_. There’s another flap of wings and a blur of movement, and next thing he knows, the woman is right in his face.

She grabs him by the front of his shirt, and snarls, “You ever touch my mate again and you’ll wish you were never born,” before she tosses him through the air like he weighs nothing. He lands awkwardly on his feet a good ten feet away from where he was standing, feels his left ankle roll and a shooting pain radiate through his foot, and drops to the wet ground like a sack of shit.

“Loophole! Never said _she_ wouldn’t harm you,” Dean hears Metatron say, and then he can hear the sound of giant wings flapping. “Next time make yourself more clear, Castiel!” is yelled over the flapping sound, and Metatron and Naomi's combined laughter fades as they fly away.

Dean forces himself up to a sitting position with a grimace, and eyes the only remaining birdman with a mixture of fear and unease.


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you alright?” the winged man asks Dean.

While a part of Dean is freaked the fuck out (because this dude _has wings)_ he tries to remember that out of the three of them, this is the only one who didn’t try to hurt him, even if he did scare the shit out of him in the cave. The guy’s black wings are fluttering at the tips, and Dean has a hard time looking away from them.

He struggles to swallow down the lump of fear in his throat and answers, “I, uh, rolled my ankle pretty bad.”

The man’s eyebrows pinch together, his wings close up behind his back, and he takes a step forward. Instinctively, Dean tries to back away, and the birdman freezes. His wings lower from arching high over his shoulders to shoulder height and curve downwards at the ends. It kinda reminds Dean of when a dog folds its ears back.

“Can you stand?”

His ankle is throbbing like a mother fucker and feels like it’s about ten sizes too big for his shoe, but he’s a police officer -  he's gotta be able to take a little pain - so he tries to get to his feet. He manages to get up to his left knee and stands with his weight on the uninjured foot, but the very moment his left foot touches the ground, pain shoots through his ankle and all the way up his leg like lightning.

“Fucking _shit,”_ he curses as his arms windmill and he tries to stay balanced on one leg. _“Shit, shit, shit.”_

“We should take a look at that,” the birdman says stoically, as if Dean doesn’t look like an idiot flailing and swearing.

Dean’s already shaking his head. “I’m good. I’m uh, just gonna hang here for a little bit, but you go ahead back into your cave thingy and pretend I don’t exist.”

“I can’t just leave you out here alone. If any other angels find you -”

“Angels?” Dean repeats before he can think not to. _“Angels?”_ he asks again. “Like - halo and harp angels?”

“What are you talking about?”

 _“Me?_ What are _you_ talking about? You can’t be an angel! Angels aren’t real.”

“I assure you, I’m very real. In fact, I can prove it to you if you’d let me assist you.” The man takes another step forwards with his wings still held down, and Dean steps back again, accidentally putting pressure on his sore foot and causing him to fold like an accordion all over again. But before he can fall to the ground, a single warm arm is wound around his waist and holding his weight with ease.

Dean sputters unintelligibly and tries to push away from him, putting weight on his foot _again_ in the process, and starts cursing all over again. “Mother fucker!”

“Please don’t be afraid of me. I know you you don’t want me to touch you, but I won’t harm you. I’m just trying to help you stay standing.”

Seeing as he doesn’t exactly have a choice here, Dean takes several deep breaths trying to calm his racing heart. At least this angel doesn’t seem like he wants to hurt him, unlike the other two. Finally, he steadies himself and asks, “Do you - uh - know anything about humans?” Now that he’s closer, he gets a better look at the way the guy’s wings are folded behind him. They’re _huge._

“Not much,” he admits. “But I know you can’t walk at the moment, you need to stay warm and dry, and that a storm is coming.”

“Nuh-uh,” Dean disagrees, looking up at the blackening sky with a sense of betrayal. He _checked_ this before he left. “My weather app said there was no chance of rain today.”

“I don’t know what a weather app is, but perhaps you need a new one considering it’s already rained once.”

He can’t help noticing how the one side of his body where the angel is pressed up against him is _so warm,_ but once he manages to focus, Dean admits the guy is right. He can’t walk, so he might as well take a load off and see if he can wrap up his foot so he can find some sort of walking stick or something he can use to get home.

“Yeah, alright. Are there any other... angels... in your cave?”

“No,” he answers bluntly.

Dean knows immediately just from the tone of the angel’s voice that he’s said something wrong. He’s never been great at talking shit out, but he doesn’t want the angel to be pissed at him either, especially considering he’s now counting on the shelter he has.

Before he can think of what to say to make this any better, the angel asks, “May I lift you?”

“No!” Dean says quickly, freaked out by the thought. “No,” he says more calmly. “I’ll just hop on one foot if you think you can take my weight for the other one.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

And he’s right. It’s a little awkward because Dean doesn’t want to touch him anymore than he has to, but he gives in to brace his arm around the angel’s shoulders. He’s a sturdy, solid, warm wall beside him, and frankly, taking the assistance offered makes this a hell of a lot easier than he thought it would, and so the two of them make their way into the cave. He hadn’t noticed before, but it smells like damp earth inside, and weirdly, kind of like the farmer’s market Sam used to drag him to in the summer.

“I can’t see a damn thing,” Dean grouses.

“I’ll light the fire once you’re settled now that I’m not trying to hide from you.”

“You were hiding from me?” Dean asks.

“We hide from all humans. Why do you think nobody knows we exist?”

He has a point. They walk past the fire pit, and now Dean’s further into the cave than he has been so far. He’s totally floored when the angel leads him to the right side of the cave and tells him, “Here you go. Take a seat.”

“You _have_ seats?”

“No, I sit on the dirt floor all day,” the angel says sarcastically. Then Dean’s being gently pushed backwards until he’s sitting on what feels like a wooden bench. “Stay here while I light the fire.”

“Like I have a choice,” Dean mumbles, which gets a soft hum of agreement from the angel. He shifts so he can get his left leg up on the bench, knowing elevating it will help with the swelling. The next thing he’s aware of, there’s a spark of light, then a small flame, and rather quickly, there’s a sizable fire that’s lighting up some of the cave. The angel lights a torch and braces it in a hole in the ground across from him, and then does the same thing with another torch and puts it beside Dean.

Dean’s struck stupid all over again by the sight of the angel’s wings. His black feathers are shining in the reflection of the flames, and the orange glow on his tanned skin makes him look less human and more like some of kind of mythical creature than he did outside. He can’t tear his eyes away from his feathers. A man with wings. An angel. He still can’t believe this is real.

“I apologize, I know my wings are unpleasant to look at,” the angel says, tearing him out of his thoughts. As he speaks, his wings droop closer to the ground than he’s seen them so far, and Dean gets the impression he’s embarrassed or something.

“I don’t think they’re _unpleasant,_ I’m just not used to seeing a guy with wings. I’ll try not to stare.”

“It’s okay, I know they’re horrid,” he says bitterly.

Dean shrugs. “Obviously I don’t know anything about angel wings, but they look pretty badass to me.”

“Badass?” the angel repeats curiously.

“Y’know. Cool but dangerous. Intense and powerful but in a good way.”

The angel’s wings spread wide and arch up again, puffing up while the angel fails to hide a sideways smile. Apparently the angel likes having his wings complimented, Dean thinks with amusement.

“I’m not sure that’s true, but I appreciate you saying it anyway. Let’s take a closer look at your foot,” the angel says as he walks closer. He kneels in front of Dean, revealing thighs thick with muscle when his Tarzan cloth dangles between his legs, and glances at the foot resting on the bench. “Is it alright if I touch you to take your sock off?”

“Well let’s maybe start with my shoe,” Dean says with a smile.

“Your shoe?”

“Yeah, this thing right here?” Dean says, wiggling his good foot back and forth. “That’s my shoe. This -” He lifts his jeans at the ankle. “Is a sock.”

The angel’s wings flutter at the tips again and there’s a slight pink tinge to his cheeks. “My apologies.”

“No big deal, just figured you might as well know the right word, right?” The angel nods his agreement. “And yeah, let’s get my shoe off. It’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch,” he sighs heavily.

“Does that usually happen when you take your shoe off?” he asks.

A soft huff of laughter escapes him. “No. It’s just ‘cause my ankle is fucked.”

There’s a pinch of confusion between the angel’s eyebrows again and Dean makes a mental note to try to speak plainly to make things easier for him.

“It’s really sore and swollen,” Dean rephrases.

The angel nods his understanding. “You can shout if you need to,” the angel says, his low voice rumbling in the cave.

“Do it quick, okay?” Dean tells him, already steeling himself. “No matter how much I yell, just pull it off as fast as you can and don’t stop until it’s off.”

The angel takes Dean’s foot in his hands and props it up on his knee. He unties the laces easily (making Dean wonder why he knows how to do that if he doesn’t know what shoes are) before he pulls them free of the shoe entirely, then flicks his eyes up to Dean’s. Dean hadn’t noticed until right now, but his eyes are the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. His pupils are blown wide in the dimly lit cave, leaving only a bright, thin ring of dazzling blue that causes his pulse to start racing. He’s so busy staring at him that he’s caught completely off guard when he rips the shoe off of his foot.

Dean screams at the top of his lungs for the three seconds it takes for the angel to get his shoe off, and then the throbbing starts and he feels like his foot might actually explode. His breaths come out short and fast, and he can feel sweat beading on his forehead from the exertion it’s taking not to pass out from pain.

“Your ankle looks quite large,” the angel comments.

Dean opens his eyes to look down and - yup - that was a mistake. His ankle is swollen so badly it looks like there’s a golf ball stuck under his skin.

“Holy shit,” Dean gasps.

“That’s not normal, right?” the angel asks.

Dean shakes his head, breathing deeply to try to calm himself before he feels like he can talk. “No, look,” Dean finally manages, putting his feet together to show him the difference between his injured ankle and his uninjured one.

“That -” the angel begins, shaking his head. “That looks bad,” he says sadly.

“No shit.”

“If I was to get an injury like this, I would wrap it and elevate it. Is that what we should do with yours as well?”

Dean nods his head. “Yeah. I’d probably use ice first, but I’m guessing you don’t have a freezer.”

Another look of confusion settles onto his face before he confirms, “I don’t have ice.”

“Right. So wrap it up, I guess. Do you have cloth? Fabric?”

He frowns and his wings rustle again. “That isn’t something that’s easy to come by for angels,” he admits. Then his feathers still and he nods. “I do have something that might work, though.” He places Dean’s foot back onto the bench gingerly and heads towards the back of the cave. Dean can’t watch to see where he goes since his leg is pointing in the other direction, so instead, he takes off his windbreaker since he’s now sweating buckets, and looks down to examine the bench more clearly. _Bench_ is probably too kind a word for what it really is: a glorified, rather large log cut to have a straight top and sanded down so well it’s soft beneath his fingers. Considering he’s pretty sure the angel doesn’t have sandpaper, he wonders how he got it so soft. It’s impressive.

The angel comes back with what looks like a pair of black cotton pants.

“Pants?” Dean asks.

“It’s the only fabric I have,” the angel says apologetically. “I’ll have to trade for another pair before it snows, but the fabric should work if we cut it into strips.”

“Hey, hang on a second,” Dean says. “I forgot I have a first aid kit in my bag. It probably has a tensor bandage in it.”

“Is that cloth?” the angel asks.

“Yeah, like stretchy cloth. I dunno where my bag ended up though.”

“Outside the cave. I’ll retrieve it for you.”

He walks off towards the mouth of the cave, giving Dean time to think about how the angel was going to cut up his only pair of pants in order to wrap his foot up for him. Regardless of how freaked out he is by being in the presence of an angel, he’s been good to him, and though he doesn’t want to let his guard down completely, he should probably try being a little nicer.

When the angel comes back with his bag in hand, his hair is wet and his skin glistens in the light of the fire. “Raining?” Dean asks stupidly, trying to make friendly conversation.

“Quite hard,” he says, stopping to shake out his wings with a wince. Then he approaches Dean and places the bag beside him on the bench. “Hopefully what you need isn’t too wet from the rain.”

“I paid enough for the damn bag, it should at least be waterproof,” Dean says, digging into it to find it dry inside. He pulls the first aid kit out, pops the lid, and removes the tensor bandage. “Here we go,” he says, holding it up for the angel to see. “Sorry - what did you say your name was? Cassie?”

“Cas-ti-el,” he repeats, one syllable at a time.

“Castiel, right. How could I forget,” he says sarcastically.

“Do you have a name as well?”

“Dean Winchester,” he answers. Then, considering he’s about to ask him to wrap his foot up, he offers his hand for a handshake. “Nice to meet you.” Castiel just looks at his hand in confusion before flicking his eyes up to Dean’s with a silent question in them. Dean drops his hand with a huff of laughter. “Guess angels don’t shake hands, huh?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. What’s the purpose?”

“I dunno, just what humans do when they introduce themselves.”

“Oh,” Castiel says, seeming to understand now. “Angels are more interested in each other’s scents and wings than shaking their hands.”

“You don’t do the dog thing and sniff each other’s butts, do you?” Dean jokes.

Castiel’s eyes narrow, his feathers twitch, and his voice is lower than usual when he responds, “We are not like _dogs,_ Dean.”

“I - I was just joking,” Dean says, thrown off a little bit by how fast the dude went from adorably confused to intimidating. “My bad. I apologize,” he corrects.

“Apology accepted. Are you able to wrap this yourself?” Castiel asks.

“If I can get my foot up on the bench beside me,” Dean says, thinking aloud. He can swing his leg up onto the bench, but he needs to bend it at the knee with his heel on the edge of the bench in order to be able to reach his foot to wrap it, but no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t bend that way. “Never was very flexible,” Dean says awkwardly, now flushed from embarrassment.

“Perhaps due to the odd way your legs bend outwards.”

Dean snorts with laughter. “No, I’m just stiff as hell.”

“Would you like me to wrap it for you?”

“Got any idea how?” Dean asks.

“Not really. But I follow directions pretty well.”

“Better than nothing,” Dean says with a shrug, holding out the bandage for Castiel. “Uh, sorry, this is sorta weird, but can you pull my sock off? Carefully?”

Castiel does so without hesitation, and Dean tries not to gasp when he sees a dark purple bruise blooming along the outside of his foot. He just hopes it isn’t broken. “Thanks. So you’re gonna wrap the bandage around my foot a few times, nice and tight so it compresses the swelling.” He waits for Castiel to take his heel in his hand, and startles when he feels his hot skin against his. He doesn’t say anything about it, and watches silently as Castiel starts following his instructions, wincing with pain when just wrapping the bottom part of his foot hurts like a bitch. Once that’s done, he says, “Then you’re gonna want to go up around my ankle and down the other side, kind of like a figure eight.”

“A what?” Castiel asks, glancing up at him.

Now it’s Dean’s turn to frown. “You don’t know numbers?”

“I can count,” Castiel says defensively, “but I don’t know what a ‘figure eight’ is.”

“Do you know what eight looks like?”

“Eight what?” Castiel prods.

Then he gets it. Castiel can count eight items, but doesn’t know what the number eight looks like. “Don’t worry about it. Just go in and out around my ankle like this,” Dean says, demonstrating by waving his hand slowly in the air.

“I understand,” Castiel says with a nod, and follows Dean’s instructions perfectly until Dean tells him with clenched teeth to wrap the remaining bandage around his shin. Castiel secures it with the pins and places his foot carefully back onto the bench. Dean’s covered in sweat from fighting back the pain emanating from his foot, and Castiel frowns when he straightens up.

“You don’t look so good.”

“Wow, you do wonders for the ego, man,” Dean says sarcastically.

“I meant you look unwell, not unattractive,” Castiel clarifies. Before Dean can begin to process that, he asks, “Would you like me to make some tea to help with the pain?”

“Not really a big fan of tea,” Dean says.

“You wouldn’t be drinking it for the flavor,” Castiel points out.

“Yeah, alright,” Dean sighs. “There’s probably some painkillers in the first aid kit, too.”

Castiel picks up the kit off the ground and passes it to him without a word, then turns towards the fire. Dean fishes the painkillers out and knocks a couple back with a mouthful of water before he turns his attention to Castiel. He puts two thick, tall, forked branches with large rocks tied to the bottoms standing on either side of the fire, then takes one of the metal rods from the cave wall. He threads the rod through the handle of a small pot, then positions the rod horizontally across the two sticks. The pot dangles over top the small flame, and Dean nods in approval of the system he’s got rigged up. The angel’s smart.

Castiel lights another torch and carries it further into the cave, again, where Dean can’t turn to look. He comes back and drops a small bag next to the pot, then puts the lid on top

“What’s in the teabag?” Dean asks.

“Bark from a willow tree, cloves, and cinnamon for flavor,” Castiel answers.

“Sounds fantastic,” Dean says sarcastically.

“You’re welcome,” Castiel answers, his voice flat.

Dean sighs, feeling shame creep in. “Sorry. I know I’m not exactly bending over backwards to thank you.”

“You’re injured, and bending over backwards would be a pointless way to say thank you even if you weren’t.” Dean can’t help but smile at his literal nature, and reminds himself again to speak more plainly. “It shouldn’t take long for the water to boil.”

“Why are you helping me, anyway?” Dean asks him.

The feathers in Castiel’s wings flutter at the same time Castiel looks away from him pointedly. “I couldn’t leave you out there knowing you were hurt.”

“You had no problems scaring me away the first time I came in here.”

“I assure you I was just as frightened by you as you were of me.” When Dean scoffs, Castiel expands, “I didn’t know what the light was in your hand. I didn’t know if you were here to hurt me or expose me. All I knew was that it’s - it’s a trying time for angels right now and I needed to defend my territory.”

“Those other angels said something like that, too. About angels being vulnerable right now. What’s that mean?”

“It’s nothing important,” Castiel answers, his wings rustling loudly now.

“Maybe tell your feathers to chill then, huh?”

“Why would I want to chill my feathers?” Castiel asks, now sounding curious.

“I meant calm down. Stop fluttering so much,” Dean explains. “Chill.”

“Why didn’t you just say that then? You seem to make things so needlessly complicated,” he mutters. “And I can’t control my feathers or my wings, unless I’m flying.”

Dean tries not to balk at the idea of a man the same size as him _flying_ and instead asks his next question. “What do you mean you don’t control them?”

“They react to the way I’m feeling. Think of it like your facial expression. You can try to hide your emotions, but it rarely works.”

“So what’s it mean when they get all twitchy?”

“I’ve already said more than I should. Angels aren’t supposed to reveal themselves to humans at all, let alone invite them into their homes at ma- at all,” he stumbles, his wings twitching more now than they have so far. “I can’t tell you everything you want to know.”

“Alright, I get it,” Dean answers. He’s pretty sure he’s already figured out they twitch when he gets nervous, anyway. “Can you tell me why your angel buddies tried to kill me?”

“Because you seemed threatening to them.”

“I wasn’t, though,” Dean argues. “I was bent over my bag when they came up behind me.”

“Just being here right now is threatening.”

Dean huffs is annoyance, knowing he won’t tell him what that means even if he asks. “Whatever you say.”

In the sudden silence in the cave, he hears bubbling coming from the pot over the fire. Castiel must too, because he turns towards it and lifts the rod off of the fire, then carefully lowers the pot to the ground. The rod goes back against the wall, and Castiel opens the lid of the pot with a stick before he tosses the small tea bag inside of it and closes the lid again. He stands and turns back to face Dean as the cave slowly starts smelling like bark and cinnamon.

“Does your ankle feel any better yet?”

“Maybe a little,” Dean admits, looking over at it. “Still just as swollen, though.”

“How far is it to walk home?” Castiel asks.

“‘bout three hours.” When Castiel looks at him blankly, he rephrases. “I have to get all the way off the mountain, but it’s just a quick walk to my car from there.”

“And injured?”

“Well, considering I can’t walk...” Dean lets the words trail off into nothingness. “Maybe you can make me some kind of crutch or something?”

“Like a walking stick? I could do that. I’d prefer to wait until the rain stops, though, if that’s okay.”

“Not much good a wet stick’s gonna do me anyway.”

“I appreciate that. My feathers get tangled worse than they already are when they get wet because I can’t preen them properly by myself.”

Dean shrugs. “Your feathers look fine to me.”

His wings puff up again and Castiel looks everywhere but at Dean. “Thank you. They’re a mess and quite uncomfortable on the back and underneath where I can’t reach them, though.”

“You need a hand?”

Castiel’s wings fluff up and start fluttering almost violently. “We - I - you can’t _do that!”_ Castiel manages to sputter.

Dean raises his hands palms up. “Just tryin’ to help.” Castiel is still flapping a little bit so he tries to distract him with questions. “Is it because I’m human? You don’t want me touching your wings or something?”

Castiel’s wings stay all fluffed up and jittery and he’s pretty sure he’s flushed again. He wishes he knew _why._ “It’s not... that... exactly,” Castiel says slowly. He inhales and exhales deeply, his shoulders rising and falling as he does. “Grooming each other’s wings is something only shared by family or those with pair bonds - mates.”

“Oh. You don’t have a mate I guess?” Dean asks.

“No. I told you, my wings are an eyesore.”

“Says who?” Dean asks, insulted on his behalf.

“Every angel I’ve ever met, aside from my parents.”

“Well they’re all dumb as shit and fuckin’ blind too, because your wings are awesome.”

“Dean,” Castiel sighs with a tiny smile on his lips.

Dean’s lips quirk, too. “Only took what, a half hour for you to get annoyed with me?”

“My patience even astounds me sometimes,” Castiel says dryly, and Dean laughs out loud for the first time in longer than he can remember. Castiel looks pleased with himself, and when Dean’s laughter doesn’t stop right away, Castiel’s face splits into a real smile. Weirdly, it occurs to him that the flash of white teeth that seemed so scary in the dark only makes him look more attractive now.

“Seriously,” Dean says, still smiling as he attempts to sober up. “There’s nothing wrong with your wings, Castiel. Anybody who can’t see past them to the rest of you doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

Castiel shakes his head in disbelief. “Black wings are unheard of. You saw the other two angels’ wings. Mine are nothing like that.”

“So what?” Dean asks. “There can only be one kind of angel wings? What if all people looked the same? How boring would that be?”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of angel prejudice I don’t get, I dunno. But as an outsider, I’m telling you, there’s nothing wrong with your wings. They’re at least as nice as the other two’s.”

“Now I know you’re lying. Metatron and Naomi are bonded so their wings complement each other’s. They’re _beautiful,”_ Castiel sighs dreamily. The longing in his voice and the way his wings curl forward slightly around nobody makes it easy to see how badly Castiel wants that some day. “My wings are a plain, horrid black and probably always will be since nobody will even talk to me let alone look at me long enough to court me.”

“I’m talking to you, and believe me, you’re _plenty_ easy to look at.” The second the words come out of his mouth, he wishes he never said them. He looks away from Castiel and down at his foot again like he’s not just trying to avoid eye contact while he feels heat spread on his cheeks. What the hell is he doing, saying that kind of thing to an angel? Yeah, the angel is hot as hell, but he’s not even the same species as him. Maybe he’s missed the company of other people more than he realized if he’s flirting with some kind of wild animal.

“Is that a flirtation?” Castiel asks seriously.

Dean’s eyes dart up to him in shock at the blunt question, and he sees him standing there with his wings perfectly still. He would’ve guessed they’d be fluttering like mad, which confuses him. Maybe they don’t do that when he’s nervous after all?

“I know it came out that way, but that’s not what I meant,” Dean answers carefully. “If you weren’t an angel I’d definitely be hitting on you, though.”

“Do humans hit on each other often?” Castiel questions, relaxing slightly.

“Been a while for me,” Dean admits, still embarrassed by what he said.

“It doesn’t sound like my kind of thing. I’m not a very violent person,” Castiel says.

Dean guffaws quietly and shakes his head. “‘Hit on’ is another way to say flirt with. I didn’t mean I’d physically hit you.”

Castiel’s eyes go wide and _now_ his wings start fluttering. They stop almost as quickly as they started, though, and then they’re eerily still in comparison. “If I wasn’t an angel,” Castiel repeats quietly. “If I didn’t have black wings. If I wasn’t so old,” he adds under his breath, clearly agitated.

“Hey,” Dean says soothingly. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I’m not _upset,”_ Castiel says sharply. The tone of his voice and the renewed rigid set of his shoulders say otherwise, though.

“Okay, good. I know I’ve only known you for about a half hour, but you made me laugh for the first time in longer than I can remember, plus you’re kinda saving my ass here, so I think you’re pretty damn great.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says earnestly. “I - I think you’re pretty great as well.”

“Which is a good thing considering I might be stuck here for a little while.”

“I definitely don’t mind the company,” Castiel admits. “It’s nice not to be alone for once.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees honestly. He’s struck suddenly by how odd it is that he means that, especially after how much he’s been enjoying his solitude at the cabin. But there’s no denying it: he is enjoying not being alone for once. “I know what you mean.”

“I doubt that,” Castiel comments.

“What? Why?”

“Look at you. You must have a human mate at home waiting for you.”

Dean snorts sardonically. “Been _years_ since I’ve been with anybody like that.”

“Then I’m sure you have your pick of the garrison,” Castiel says.

“I don’t,” Dean disagrees, thinking over the word 'garrison'. “I’m - well, I’m kind of a mess right now.”

“Other than your ankle, you seem rather remarkably put together.”

Dean swallows thickly. He doesn’t want to talk about everything - would prefer it if he never had to talk about it again - but he can’t let Castiel think he’s got his shit together when that’s the furthest thing from the truth.

“I don’t really want to talk about it, but trust me, you got it all wrong.”

“I won’t attempt to make you try to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable, but if it makes you feel any better, you’re the nicest human I’ve ever met,” Castiel says, his eyes lit up with humor.

“Oh yeah? Just how many humans have you met?” Dean asks, already knowing the answer.

“The statement is true regardless of the number,” Castiel maintains with a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah, well, I guess I can say the same thing about you. Out of the three angels I’ve met, you’re the only one who didn’t try to kill me.”

“The day’s not over yet,” Castiel comments, his dry humor causing Dean to snort with laughter again.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” Dean questions.

Castiel shrugs his shoulders, but that same small smile is still curving his pink lips and Dean can’t stop looking at them. “I never really considered it before, but you’re making me think I might be, yes.”

Dean leans back on the bench, letting his head fall back to rest on the cave wall. He hisses in pain and lifts his hand to the back of his head, only now remembering the way that Metatron guy slammed his head against the cave outside

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asks, suddenly right in his space.

“Forgot Metatron smacked my head on the cave outside.”

“Let me look,” Castiel insists, and without waiting for permission, he urges Dean’s head down to look at the back of it. They’re so close, the top of his head brushes Castiel’s overly warm stomach while he carefully brushes through Dean’s short hair. He’s treated to an up-close view of his washboard abs that has his mouth watering, and he has to keep thinking, _he’s not a human, he’s not a human, he’s not a human_ on a loop in his head so he doesn’t think about how he kinda wants to trace the line of each rock hard ab with his tongue.

“You have a laceration and a bump. I think I should clean it.”

“Okay,” Dean answers, immediately embarrassed by how rough his voice is. Thankfully, Castiel doesn’t know that’s what his bedroom voice sounds like, so he ignores it.

Castiel moves away back into the depths of his cave and comes back with a small wooden cup. “I’m just going to clean the dirt and blood out of it,” he explains. He pushes Dean’s head down again, sending his brain straight to the gutter, and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at his toned stomach anymore. Then there’s cool water pouring over the back of his head, and he feels something soft wipe up the water dripping down his face. “Sorry, I didn’t think about the water dripping all over you.”

When Dean opens his eyes, he sees Castiel letting go of the cloth he’s wearing around his waist and he knows he used that to wipe him up. He clears his throat and says, “There’s probably some antibacterial stuff in the first aid kit.” He reaches for it, instantly missing the warmth from Castiel’s body when he steps back, and rifles through it until he finds some. “Here, smear a bit of that on there,” Dean tells him, unscrewing the lid and passing it to him.

“How much?”

“Just a dab,” Dean says, bending his head for him this time. One hand parts Dean’s hair out of the way, and another carefully puts some salve onto his head.

“I believe that should do it,” Castiel says, stepping back again and handing the tube back to Dean. “I couldn’t help but notice your skin is quite cold. Do you need me to build up the fire?”

Dean frowns. “No, I’m not cold. I think you run hotter than me.”

“My body temperature?” Castiel asks.

Dean nods. “Every time you touch me you feel really warm. So did the other angels. Guess you don’t know your temperature, huh?”

“I’ve never had a cause to find out.”

“Well, I’m not cold, but thanks for checking.”

“I think your tea should be ready,” Castiel says. “Are you thirsty?”

“A little hungry since I skipped lunch, but I have some snacks in my bag.” As he digs out what he packed to eat (some crackers, dried meat sticks, a banana, an apple, and a couple of cookies) he pauses to ask. “What kind of things do you eat?”

“Anything I can catch, cook, or forage for. Small animals, birds, fish, vegetables.”

“Do you cook your meat?” Dean asks, hoping the answer is yes. The idea of Castiel just ripping the insides out of something and eating them raw has his stomach churning.

Castiel chuckles as he pours some tea into what looks like a crude looking mug. “Of course, Dean. As far as I know, there aren’t many differences between humans and angels. We still have to cook our food, use the bathroom, wash to keep clean, feel emotions, have family, fears, hopes and dreams. We fight wars and make love, feel pain and have illnesses. We just do it all with wings.”

“And you run a little hot,” Dean adds.

“Honestly, I didn’t know that part until now,” Castiel admits, standing to carry the tea to him.

“Well I didn’t know you existed at all, so you’re still winning.”

Castiel smiles softly as he hands him the mug, and Dean _really_ wishes he didn’t have to be so good-looking. “None for you?” Dean asks.

“I’m not injured, and I only have one mug.”

Dean looks down at the steaming hot liquid. “How bad is this going to taste?”

“Not the worst thing you can imagine,” Castiel says.

“Now I’m excited,” he says sarcastically. “I’ll just wait for it to cool down a bit.”

“I also skipped lunch, so I’m going to have turnip and fish." He hesitates for a few seconds, then asks, "Would - would you like some?”

“Nah, I’m good. But you go ahead. Thanks,” Dean says. Castiel nods and disappears into the cave again with his wings looking all sad.

He can hear Castiel moving around and doing whatever he does to his food for a little while, and then he comes out to sit beside Dean on the bench with fish and sliced turnips on a thin wooden plate. Castiel angles himself to the side so his wings aren’t in the way, and they eat in relative silence until Castiel breaks it.

“May I ask what those are?” Castiel says, pointing to one of the crackers Dean just stuffed in his mouth.

“These? They’re crackers,” he says, still chewing.

“Where do you find them?” Castiel asks.

“The store. A, uh, company makes them and sells them in boxes.”

“Ah.” Castiel nods his head in understanding. “You trade something for these.”

Dean figures buying something isn’t so different than trading for it, so he agrees. “Yeah, something like that. You wanna try one?”

“I’d love to, if you have enough to share,” Castiel checks.

“Lots more where this came from,” Dean says, thinking of the box full of Ritz back at the cabin. He passes one to Castiel and watches while he first sniffs it, and then nibbles on the very edge with his eyes squinted.

Dean’s smiling when he says, “Checking to make sure it isn’t poison first?”

“No. I waited to ask until after you ate some first for a reason.” Though his face is entirely expressionless, Dean still somehow knows he’s joking again.

“Anybody ever tell you you’re a bit of a smart ass?”

Castiel’s feathers rustle gently, almost like they’re laughing. It makes Dean’s smile grow, and when Castiel answers, “No, but I believe I’ll take it as a compliment,” he laughs outright and realizes he’s kind of having fun.

Castiel’s smiling as he takes an actual bite of the cracker and nods as he chews. “It’s very rich.”

“Buttery deliciousness,” Dean explains. “Want another one?”

“I don’t want to leave you hungry.”

“I packed enough granola bars to survive on for a week, don’t worry about it.” Castiel still hesitates, so Dean insists. “Come on, go for it.”

“They’re very good,” Castiel says sheepishly, tentatively reaching for another from the little baggie Dean has them in. “Thank you for sharing. It’s nice to eat something I didn’t have to prepare myself.”

That reminds him that he hasn’t had any of his tea yet. He picks it up, the warmth of the mug making him think of how he warms his hands on his coffee cup every morning outside, and he takes a careful sip so he doesn’t burn himself. It tastes exactly like how it smells: like a cinnamon tree. If he can take Buckley’s when he’s sick, he can take this though, so once he knows it isn’t going to scald his mouth, he swallows several mouthfuls before he puts it down again.

“No gagging and you didn’t spit it out. I’m impressed,” Castiel says.

Dean resists making the spit or swallow comment that comes to mind, but he can’t quite hide the smile at his own internal joke. “Like you said, not the worst thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

They finish off their meals in a surprisingly comfortable silence, and once they’re done, Castiel carries his plate and Dean’s now empty mug away into the depths of the cave. That leaves Dean a few minutes of solitude which he once again fills by thinking about Castiel and how he’s actually having a good time hanging out in a cave with a busted up foot and an angel for company.


	3. Chapter 3

When Castiel returns, he stands in front of Dean somewhat awkwardly. “It’s still raining pretty hard.”

That’s pretty obvious, considering he’s sure Cas can hear the way the rain is pouring down outside at least as well as he can. He must be trying to keep a conversation going between them.

“Yeah, not really wanting to hobble through the rain on one leg if I can avoid it.”

“You’re welcome to stay until you need to.”

“Thanks, but if the sun doesn’t come out, I’m not gonna be able to go home until the morning, and I’m guessing you don’t have an extra bed or anything for me to sleep on.”

“I don’t, but you’re still safer here than you would be exposed to the elements. Not to mention what the other angels might do to you if they caught your scent.”

“My _scent?”_ Dean echoes. “What, like sweat and Ritz crackers?”

Castiel’s lips quirk. “You _do_ smell like those crackers right now. But I meant your natural scent. Everything has one. Angels, humans, animals.”

“Huh,” Dean says, caught off guard by this little bit of information. Not that it’s out there or anything, he just never thought about being able to talk to somebody (something?) about this before. “So do all humans smell alike, or are we all different?”

“I haven’t been this close to anybody but you, but based on the distant scents I’ve caught from others in the past, I would say there are similarities, but still something distinctly _you_ as well.”

“So, say there were twenty humans scattered in the forest, would you be able to sniff me out now that we’ve met?”

“Without a doubt,” Castiel says confidently.

“Huh. What do I smell like?”

“Human, but...” Castiel closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. “With a hint of... pine. Maybe even burning pine? Yes. Burning pine and something...” Castiel takes another step closer and inhales again. “Something sweet, but I can’t quite place it.”

When Castiel opens his eyes again, he’s looking down at Dean, and their eyes lock. Dean’s stomach clenches when he feels the little bit of space between them come alive just like that. He can almost literally _feel_ the charge of mutual attraction in the air, and judging by how Castiel’s lips part and his nostrils flare, he’s gotta be feeling it, too. Dean licks his lips nervously while trying to think of something to say, and feels his heart start thumping wildly in his chest when Castiel’s eyes drop to follow the movement of his tongue.  

The moment is interrupted when Castiel’s wings spread open wide with a loud _snap_ before tilting towards Dean and lowering themselves to the ground in what looks like a wing bow. Castiel’s eyes bulge and a flush spreads rapidly from Castiel’s cheeks all the way down to his neck.

“Dean - I’m - I’m so sorry,” Castiel stammers. “This has never happened to me before. It’s highly inappropriate,” he says, taking several steps backwards and turning bodily away from him so now Dean can see his wings from the back for the first time. He also gets a good look at how broad his shoulders are since his wings are still angled downwards, and _goddamn_ Castiel looks good from behind. His wings are fucking huge, seeming to attach to his body at the base of his neck and down by his tailbone. The more he looks at them, the more he stands by what he said before: they’re badass and make him look powerful.

“Don’t apologize for your wings wanting to show off a little,” Dean says, wishing he could stand so he could ask if he could touch just one feather. They look so _soft._ “I know you can’t control it, so don’t worry about it. They look freaking awesome by the way. Badass, but really soft, too.”

Castiel’s wings puff out and start fluttering again, suddenly looking twice as big as they did a second ago. “Dean - I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk about my wings right now,” Castiel says, sounding pained.

Dean shrugs. “If that’s what you want. I know other people haven’t been nice about them, so I just wanna let you know I like them. I know you’re not a bird,” Dean says carefully, remembering how he reacted to his dog comment from earlier. “But I’ve been birdwatching for a couple of weeks down at my cabin. I’ve seen something like twenty species of birds since I started, and I’ve been matching them up in this book I got at the closest grocery store.” Dean smiles to himself as he sees Castiel’s wings slowly start to deflate, his feathers stilling, and Castiel’s shoulders relaxing somewhat. His distraction is working. “So I’ve seen all kinds of feathers over the last little bit, and I know you’re gonna tell me not to say it -”

“Dean,” Castiel warns him.

“So I won’t say that yours are the coolest I’ve seen so far. And I’m not gonna say that if I had to pick a favorite pair of wings out of all the wings I’ve seen, that I’d pick yours. Because I know you don’t want me to talk about them right now.”

“That’s... very considerate of you...” Castiel says softly, his feathers staying unfluffed but quivering slightly at the tips again. It’s mesmerizing. “And I’m very flattered.”

“That mean you’re gonna puff up like a blowfish on me again?” Dean teases.

Castiel scoffs, and Dean wonders if angels know how to roll their eyes, ‘cause if they do, he’d bet good money that’s what Castiel is doing right now. “I hardly look like like a blowfish.”

“Nah, you’re right. Too fluffy for that,” Dean says, still using a teasing tone of voice.

“Are you this complimentary to the birds you see at your cabin as well?” Castiel asks.

Dean chuckles, completely unashamed. “Just the ones that talk back.”

“I’ll try to be silent, then, the next time my wings decide to try to sed-” Castiel stops mid-word and Dean tries to fill in the rest of what he was going to say in his mind. Sedate? Sedative? Sedan? _Damn,_ he hopes his Baby’s okay parked where she is overnight.

“Sedate?” Dean asks, getting his brain back on track.

Castiel laughs lightly. “Yes,” he confirms with a nod of his head. He turns back to face Dean and says seriously, “My wings are magic and when they flutter just right, they put humans to sleep. But it’s imperative you don’t tell anybody when you go home, or else we’ll be hunted and caged and forced to do a wing dance to put humans to sleep all hours of the night.”

Even knowing he’s joking, Dean grins. “Your secret’s safe with me, Cas.”

Castiel shakes his head in amusement, and his wings fold up behind him. “What are we going to do until it stops raining?”

“Well, I can’t even stand up, so my options are kinda limited. What would you do if I wasn’t here?”

“Probably work, since I can’t hunt or forage in the rain.”

“Work? What kind of work?” Dean asks.

“You’re sitting on some of it,” Castiel replies.

“The bench? I gotta say, it’s pretty sturdy. I was thinking earlier about how soft the wood is. How’d you do that?”

“With tools.”

This he’s gotta see. “Can you show me?”

“I don’t see why not. Humans have furniture and carvings as well, don’t they?” he checks.

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure you don’t have the same kind of tools we do. I’m curious about how you do something like this with what you have.”

“I’ll be right back, then,” Castiel says, smiling happily.

When he comes back, he has what looks like a slab of wood and a satchel hanging over one shoulder. “Usually I do this outside so there aren’t woodchips everywhere, but I’ll just have to sweep up the mess when I’m through,” Castiel says, settling onto the ground a few feet in front of him. Dean tries not to stare while his wings tuck up briefly as he sits before they cascade along the cave floor behind him. Castiel pulls what looks like a small axe, a wooden mallet, and a crude looking chisel out of his bag and sets them on the ground beside him. “This will be a bowl, eventually. I used to make them round, but making them square is much easier and takes a lot less time, so now I do it this way.”

“What’d you do - chop that hunk of wood from a tree?”

Castiel raises his brows. “All wood comes from trees, Dean.”

Dean sighs. “I meant with an axe.”

“Oh. Then yes. I do several chunks at a time so when I’m ready to carve I can just do that without having to find a suitable tree first.” He picks up the small axe and flicks his gaze up to Dean. “You might want to protect your eyes.” Then he starts wailing on the wood, hacking the center of the square as splinters of wood go flying.

Dean _means_ to listen to his suggestion and cover his eyes, but then he sees Castiel lift his arm a second time and he can’t seem to look away from the way his bicep bulges as it strikes the wood. Even _his forearm_ looks distinctly muscular, for fuck’s sake, and that’s when Dean realizes he’s being a little too thirsty for a being that isn’t entirely human, and finally manages to tear his gaze away.

A little while later, once Cas is satisfied with the way most of the center is now chopped out, he stops, turning over the wood and knocking the chunks of loose wood onto the floor.

“What about _your_ eyes?” Dean can finally ask.

“Hazard of the job.”

“Why don’t you get some goggles?”

Castiel frowns, that little pinch returning between his eyebrows. “I’m not familiar with that term.”

“They’re like see-through plastic covers for your eyes. They, uh, strap on with an elastic band around the back of your head,” Dean says, using his hands to try to get him to see what he’s talking about. “Or go on like glasses. That way you can still see but they protect your eyes so you don’t get anything in them.”

“I’ll have to ask Gabriel to find some the next time I speak with him.”

“Who’s Gabriel?”

Castiel picks up the chisel and the mallet, tilts the bowl onto one side and holds it between his legs. “He’s the angel who has the best luck with... procuring human items.”

“He’s a thief,” Dean surmises.

“I have never asked what his arrangement is, but he’s the only angel who’s never come back empty-handed when asked to provide something from humans. It takes some time, but he always comes through, even if his prices are outrageous.”

“Well, good news for you, then. ‘Cause now you got me.”

“I got you?” Castiel repeats.

“Yeah. I live alone in this little secluded cabin in the woods. If you need anything, you can just come ask me and I’ll get it for you.”

“That’s kind of you, Dean,” Castiel says, starting to carve out the inside of the bowl. “But I’m sure you already have bowls and furniture, so I’m not sure how I’d be able to repay you.”

“Pretty sure I owe _you_ for saving my ass and letting me stay here, so I think we’re good.”

Castiel’s wings flutter at the edges again, and Dean guesses he’s happy or nervous about his offer. “You don’t have to say that you’d welcome any contact between us after this, even if it was just a working relationship. I understand that it’s probably quite strange for you to be talking with me at all.”

“Well, yeah, but only because I didn’t think angels existed for real. Now that I know you do and I’m fairly confident that you’re not gonna try to eat me in my sleep tonight, I don’t see why we couldn’t stay in contact when I leave here.”

“Besides the fact that the other angels would never allow it?” Castiel says, laughing humorlessly.

“Why not?”

“We’re not supposed to reveal ourselves to humans,” he reminds him. Dean keeps watching while his deft fingers work the mallet and chisel, each minute revealing a smoother surface for the inside of the bowl.

“Well you’ve already done it, so what harm is saying hey every now and then going to do?”

“There’s a million different answers for that.”

“Like what?”

“Like, what if I drop by and you have company?” Castiel asks.

“Not gonna happen. There’s never been anybody but me out there and that’s not gonna change.” Castiel opens his mouth to argue but Dean cuts him off before he can. _“But_ we can make a system. I could... tie a scarf to a tree or to one of the chairs out by the dock or something so you’d know from the sky that it isn’t safe to drop in.”

Castiel’s feathers puff up but only a little bit this time. His eyes flick up to Dean and he can tell just based on his expression that he shouldn’t mention it, but he can’t help the smile that comes to his face. Castiel’s answering smile is small, but it’s there. “That might work,” he admits, looking back down to the bowl. “The other angels would know we kept in contact, though.”

“How?”

“Your scent, Dean.”

He thinks for a few seconds before coming up blank. “I’ll think of something.”

“Why would you even bother?”

“Why not?”

“You’ve known me for a very short period of time. You have no reason to maintain a - a -”

“Friendship?” Dean supplies.

“Exactly. A friendship with me. Why would you want to be friends with me when there are millions of humans out there you could be friends with much more easily?”

Dean looks over at the flames still dancing in the fire pit for a little while before he finds the right words to answer with. “I still don’t really want to talk about it, but I guess it’s sorta nice talking to somebody for once who isn’t looking at me like they feel sorry for me, watching me for signs that I’m depressed, or glaring at me like I’m a monster.”

He goes stalk still when Castiel’s wings flap gently before curving forwards, one huge black wing settling on either side of him like open arms waiting for a hug or something.

He swallows hard before he aims a half smile in Castiel’s direction and jokes, “Goin’ in for an angel hug, Cas?”

Castiel smiles the way he wanted him to, looking back down at his bowl while his wings remain in place. “It seems as though my wings wish to offer you comfort.”

Dean’s strangely touched by the gesture. “Can I feel them?” Dean asks. Castiel raises his eyes to Dean’s again, and Dean’s struck by the intensity of the fear so visible in his gaze. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I was just curious.”

“It’s not that I’m against the idea entirely,” Castiel says quietly. “The timing is just... unfortunate.”

He has no idea what that means, but he nods anyway. “I’ll just stay still until they decide I’m okay, then,” Dean offers.

“I appreciate that, Dean. Thank you.” Castiel looks back down at his bowl, and it’s a few seconds later when he speaks again. “I’m sorry it hasn’t been easy on you lately with your fellow humans. I can relate all too well to being looked at like I’m a monster, and I know it isn’t a good feeling.” Dean nods, not knowing what to say to that considering how hard he’s concentrating on not touching the wings that are still brushing his shoulders softly. “If it makes you feel any better, you’ve been very kind and respectful to me, and I’m certain you’re not a monster.”

“Wish I was that sure,” Dean hears himself say quietly.

Castiel smiles at him sadly but goes back to his carving. Eventually, his wings withdraw and fold back behind him the way they were before, and Dean goes back to sitting comfortably while he watches Cas turn the wood into a bowl bit by bit. He has no idea how long it’s been (he would guess hours) when Cas turns the bowl over to shape the outside, then pulls out a tool Dean doesn’t recognize from his bag.

Before he can ask, Castiel says, “I don’t know what it’s called really, but I call it a scraper. It scrapes the small, jagged areas from the wood so it’s soft.”

“Kinda reminds me of a razor,” Dean says. “It’s what we use to shave our faces.”

“That makes sense, seeing as the purpose is the same,” Castiel agrees as small shavings build up in a pile between his crossed legs. He keeps testing the inside by running his thumb along it, then re-shaving the areas Dean’s guessing are still too rough, before finally, he holds his newly created bowl out for Dean. He takes it tentatively, tests the softness with his own fingers, and lets out a soft tut of surprise when he finds it’s perfect.

“I’m impressed,” Dean admits. “This is damn good work.”

The tips of his wings fluff up and Castiel smiles wide. “Thank you. I’m the best in the garrison,” he says proudly.

“Yeah?”

Castiel nods, wiping his hands clean on his loincloth. “They’ve made it clear the only reason this cave remains untouched while I’m gone is due to the items I can provide.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but it sounds like most angels are dicks,” Dean tells him.

Castiel chokes on a bit of a laugh, so Dean waggles his eyebrows when he looks over. “Don’t let them hear you say that.”

“Figure I owe them one after they pinned me to a cave and threw me through the air like a rag doll.”

“That will be the least of your problems if you talk to them that way,” Castiel warns him. “How is your foot, anyway?”

Dean looks down at his foot, stunned that he hasn’t thought of it in a while. “I mean, it’s still swollen,” he says, gesturing to how it still looks like there’s a ball where his ankle should be, but it’s smaller than it was. “But I didn’t notice that it stopped throbbing ‘til now. Guess that tea you made and the painkillers kicked in after all.”

“Why do you sound surprised?”

Dean shrugs. “Didn’t really think it would work, no offence.”

“I’m glad to have proven you wrong then.”

“Listen, this is all kinds of awkward, but I kinda have to take a leak.” The now familiar scrunch of Castiel’s eyebrows and a tilt of his head is enough to know Cas isn’t picking up on what he’s trying to say. “I have to pee.”

“Oh!” Castiel gets to his feet, wood shavings falling onto the floor of the cave. “I go outside. But it’s still raining.”

“Guess I’m gonna getting wet one way or another,” Dean says, letting him know this isn’t a wait it out scenario.

“The fastest way would be if you would allow me to carry you.”

“Cas, I’m a big guy. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to carry me on your own.”

Castiel raises his eyebrows. _“Naomi_ threw you through the air. I assure you it won’t be any trouble.”

Dean sighs heavily. “Fine. But if you make a single fat joke when you try and can’t -”

But Castiel has already approached him. He sneaks one hand under his knees and another across his back to hook under his armpit, and he straightens up with Dean in his arms as if he’s lifting a pillow instead of a man who weighs a hundred and eighty pounds.

“What the fuck?” Dean says breathlessly.

“You weigh very little,” Castiel comments. “I could easily fly with you in my arms.”

 _“Don’t!”_ Dean says sharply, throwing his arms around his neck tightly to hold onto him. “I, uh, don’t like flying.”

“No flying it is, then,” Castiel says carefully, starting to walk towards the mouth of the cave. “At least it’s not raining hard anymore.” Then he’s stepping out into the rain, and Dean silently curses himself for not thinking to put his windbreaker back on. But Castiel’s wings arch up and cover them both, and Dean lets out a huff of laughter.

“That’s convenient.”

“For now anyway,” Castiel says, reminding Dean about how he said his wings get screwed up in the rain.

“Put ‘em away, Cas. I can take a little rain.”

“It’s quite alright,” Castiel insists. “The last thing we need is for you to catch some illness on top of your injured foot.”

“My hero,” Dean says flatly.

Castiel sets him down next to a tree. “You should be able to hold yourself up on one foot in order to relieve yourself, right?”

“Yeah, I think I got it from here.”

“I will give you a moment of privacy, then. Just let me know when you’re ready for me to come back, and please, be as quiet as you can.”

It ain’t easy, but Dean gets his jeans unzipped and empties his bladder while managing not to put any weight on his foot, and once he’s tucked himself away and zipped back up, he quietly says, “Cas?”

There’s a whooshing sound and then Castiel appears right in front of him. He would have fallen right over if it wasn’t for the tree behind him. “You scared the hell outta me, dude!”

“My apologies. I was just trying to get to you quickly before any other angels heard or scented you.”

“Damn, you guys move fast.”

“Thank you,” Castiel says happily, like he was complimenting him instead of complaining. “Up we go.” Castiel lifts him again, his wings coming up to cover them once more, and they make their way back to the cave. “Back to the bench, or would you like to lie down for a little while?”

“The bench is fine. Almost time to scarf down a few granola bars for dinner.”

Castiel sets him down gently on the bench, then takes several steps back to shake the rain out of his wings. Dean doesn’t miss the quick wince and feels awful for asking him to bring him out in the rain to begin with.

“I’m sorry about your wings,” Dean says.

“Don’t worry about it, they’ll be fine,” Castiel promises, though he doesn’t sound all that sure. “I have quail I was going to make into a soup for dinner tonight. I’ll have plenty to share with you if you don’t want to eat granola bars.” He says _granola bars_ like they’re a foreign food and Dean’s smiling when he considers eating quail.

“I’ve never had quail before,” he says honestly.

“It’s no different than any other bird. What kinds of birds have you eaten?”

Dean shrugs a shoulder. “Chicken, turkey -”

“It’s similar to chicken. You’ll like it.”

Dean sighs lightly. “Can’t be any worse than the cinnamon tree water.”

“Loads better,” Castiel promises.

“Alright, I’m in.”

“Excellent. I have some vegetables that I can mix in. I have potatoes, radishes, turnips, carrots, onions, and the quail. That should be sufficient for tonight.”

“Where’d you get that stuff? Trade for them?” Dean wonders.

“Originally, yes, but since then, I’ve learned I can keep most vegetables with roots buried in the sand for almost an entire season before they go bad. I just have to ration them so I don’t run out during ma- uh, the winter,” he finishes lamely.

“Whatever we eat I can replace once we get me back home.”

“Do you have a garden?” Castiel asks, his eyes wide with excitement.

“No, not really my kinda thing,” Dean answers before realizing that if he’s going to stay at the cabin for any amount of time, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to start one. “Though it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard. I was just gonna go buy - trade for - whatever you need when I get back.”

“That’s not necessary, but thank you. I’ll grab some of the vegetables from the back,” Castiel says before disappearing again.

While he’s gone, Dean decides to lose the long-sleeve shirt since it’s wet anyway and the cave isn’t too cold, thanks to the fire. He pulls his fleece on over top of his plain black t-shirt instead. He drapes his Henley over his leg to dry when Cas comes back. He has a small cutting board and his satchel again. This time, he sits beside Dean on the bench and puts the cutting board down between them. He pulls the vegetables from his bag and a dull-looking knife and starts chopping. Dean reaches for his own knife and begins peeling the crusty skin off of the carrots.

“You don’t have to help. I’m more than happy to do this for you,” he says, looking oddly shy about that.

“This is the longest I’ve sat still probably ever. I’m kinda going stir-crazy, here.”

Castiel nods. “I understand. I feel twitchy if I stay inside for too long, too.”

They chop and peel in relative silence until Castiel goes to get the quail. He tears the cooked meat into small, bite-size pieces and tosses them into a pile with the rest of the vegetables. Once he’s done, he raises a single finger in a silent _be right back_ before he returns with a pot filled with water and what looks like herbs. “Dried garlic,” he explains. “And the bones from the quail. It will boil into the soup base.”

“Awesome,” Dean says, feeling more and more excited about the soup as more time goes on. He watches while Castiel rigs up the same thing he had going to boil the tea earlier, and waits for him to come back before he asks his next burning question. “I know I’m probably driving you nuts with questions...”

“I don’t mind.”

“Okay, good,” Dean smiles. “Where’d the water come from?”

“This is rain water. It will be fine to drink since it’s going to boil anyway. There’s plenty of rivers around here with fresh water when I need it, though.”

“I feel like I went back in time or something,” Dean chuckles. “I’m gonna blow your mind with everything at the cabin when you come visit.”

“I still haven’t agreed to that,” Castiel says, but he’s smiling so Dean knows he’s at least happy with the idea. “Here, let me move these so you can get your ankle back up,” Castiel offers, moving the tray of chopped vegetables and placing them carefully on the ground.

Dean scoots closer to Cas so he has room for his leg, but he freezes again when he feels a wing spread behind him.

“Apparently my wings have taken a liking to you,” Castiel says quietly.

“I _am_ pretty likable,” Dean says with a grin. “They’re probably more comfortable stretched out anyway. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable by touching them.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to ask you not to touch when they just make themselves at home around you without your permission,” Castiel says heavily.

“Your wings don’t bother me at all, and I’d say something if they did. But they’re connected to _your_ body, Cas. You get to decide who touches and who doesn’t, no matter what, okay?” Dean says gently. “I’ll keep my hands to myself, but will it make you uncomfortable if I lean back? ‘Cause I don’t think I can sit straight until dinner’s ready.”

“That should be fine. Thank you for being so understanding about this. I know it’s an unusual situation.”

“Not so different than boundaries other people set. Doesn’t matter if it makes sense to me or not, it’s what _you’re_ comfortable with. And that can change whenever, too. So if you cave and say I can touch them and then think it feels all wrong, you can change your mind and ask me not to again and I’ll listen.” Hearing himself recite a speech he uses on victims of violence more often than not, he shakes his head at himself. “Something that’s hammered into our heads before, during, and after every shift,” Dean explains.

“Shift for what?”

 _Shit._ He didn’t mean to talk about his job, it just kinda came out. “Uh, at work. We take shifts so there’s always somebody working.”

“You must hold a very important job, then?”

“I was - I am, I guess - a police officer. Do you know what that is?” Castiel shakes his head. “Do you have any kind of angel laws? Rules you have to abide by?”

“Like not talking to humans?” Castiel says with a grin.

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, like that.”

“Yes.”

“Who’s in charge of making sure you follow the rules?”

“Oh. There’s a council made up of four of the most powerful angels in the garrison.”

“Okay, well, I guess I’m like those guys, then. I make sure there’s no crimes, thefts, fights, and basically that everybody follows the law.”

Castiel brightens immediately. “That’s a very impressive job, Dean. You must be very proud.”

Dean’s chin drops to his chest and he shakes his head bitterly. “A year ago I woulda said yes.”

“And now?” Castiel prods.

“Now I’m a mess.”

Castiel shrugs, his wings rustling behind them both. Dean can feel the warmth from Castiel’s body like a space heater beside him. “I didn’t know you a year ago, but you seem okay to me now.”

“Yeah, just wait,” Dean says darkly, thinking about how he’s bound to wake up tonight and how there’s no way Cas isn’t gonna notice.

“Before things became a mess, did you enjoy working in law enforcement?” Castiel asks.

Now it’s Dean’s turn to shrug. “I guess,” he says, noncommittally. Then scoffs at himself and raises his head. “That’s a lie. I loved it. Saving people, you know? It made me feel like - like I was doing something worthwhile with my life.”

Castiel smiles softly. “That’s very admirable. What was it like?”

“Kind of a mix,” Dean says. “Some days it was boring as hell with more paperwork than I ever thought I’d get through. Other days it was one emergency after another. One thing’s for sure, no one day was the same as the other.”

“Tell me something exciting that happened to you on the job,” Castiel urges him.

Dean gets this question a lot, so he launches into a tale about an on-foot chase with a homophobic jock from his high school who he fucking _hated_. He caught the douchebag selling drugs on the street and when he approached him the dude bailed, so he had to chase him down. That leads into another story, and another, and when he tells Cas about scaring a fifteen year old who was trespassing so bad that he actually pissed himself, he gets a belly laugh from Castiel that sets off a round of giggling they don’t manage to stop for so long his stomach hurts when it finally comes to an end.

Cas adds the rest of the stuff to the soup, and instead of sitting beside him when he comes back, he sits by his feet again. Dean hadn’t been thinking about it at the time, but he was enjoying their closeness and feels a little weird about it now that Cas is on the ground again.

“This Jo that you keep talking about,” Castiel begins as he traces a pattern into the dirt on the ground. “Is she your mate?”

Dean actually chuckles. “Nah. We’ve known each other for years. She’s like a sister to me. And uh, we call them girlfriends or boyfriends, or if we get married it’s husband or wife, or partner, I guess.”

“I thought you said Jo _was_ your partner?”

“I did. But she’s my work partner,” Dean clarifies. “Not a romantic partner.”

“That’s confusing,” Castiel complains. “How did you meet?”

“On the job. We were paired up when Jo first started and worked really well together, so we’ve been together ever since.” _Until now,_ Dean thinks, filled with guilt all over again for letting her down.

“It sounds like you’re very close,” Castiel says, but he doesn’t sound necessarily happy about that.

“This is giving me flashbacks to conversations I’ve had with every person I’ve ever dated,” he admits.

“How so?”

“People always seem to get jealous over how much time I spend with her.”

Castiel’s wings stiffen, looking hard in a way he hasn’t seen yet. “I’m not jealous,” he says defensively.

“I don’t expect you to be,” Dean says carefully. “I’m just sayin’. There’s never been anything but friendship with me and Jo, but it’s still almost always a problem.”

“You must understand why.”

“Kinda, I guess, but it’s not like I had a choice. I was never choosing her over anybody else. It was just work.”

“Angels would never be expected to work that closely with somebody who isn’t their mate,” Castiel remarks. “It would be disrespectful to come home to your mate smelling like somebody else.”

“Huh. Would an angel be able to smell another human on me?”

“I can’t be certain, but I would think so, yes. Maybe not every angel, but I’m quite familiar with your scent at this point, so I think I would know if it changed.”

“I’ll make sure to shower real good before I see you if I ever manage to hook up again,” Dean quips.

“Hook up?”

“Yeah, you know. Fool around, have sex with somebody?”

Castiel finally looks up from where he was drawing on the ground with his eyes wide. “You said you didn’t have a mate!”

“I don’t?” Dean says carefully.

“I don’t understand. You just ‘hook up’ with a human you aren’t mated to?”

“Well yeah,” Dean answers.

Castiel scoots back further away from Dean as something new seems to occur to him. _“Multiple_ humans?”

“Not at the same time or anything,” he says, trying to lighten the mood with a joke.

Castiel is shaking his head side to side and his lips are parted in clear disbelief. His wings are fluttering like crazy now, making him look all kinds of flustered.

“Dude, chill. You’re literally blowing feathers,” he tells him, seeing tiny little fluffy feathers floating in the air.

“I - I could _never!”_ Castiel exclaims. “I had no idea humans approached sex so - so _casually.”_

“How do you guys do it?”

“Angels bond _for life,_ Dean.”

Dean blinks slowly as his meaning becomes clear. “Wait. So, because you don’t have a mate, are you tellin’ me... you’ve never...?” Castiel just gazes back at him blankly. Honestly, it was dumb to think he’d pick up on that. “You’re a virgin?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Dean lets out a heavy breath. “You’ve never had sex before?”

“Of course not!” Castiel says, his wings actually flapping now. He pushes to his feet and starts pacing back and forth.

“Wow,” Dean says quietly. “How old are you?”

“What do you mean?”

Dean tries to rephrase. “How long have you been alive?”

“Oh. This coming winter will be my thirty-sixth year.”

Dean’s eyes bulge before he can remind himself not to. He looks away to school his face into a more neutral expression. “And, uh, how old are angels when they usually find a mate? Or is it different for everybody just like humans?”

Castiel’s voice is so quiet he can barely hear it over the sound of his wings shuffling into place while they droop towards the floor. “Angels become available for mating when they come of age in their eighteenth year.”

So it’s been almost twenty years since Cas got put on the market, and nobody wants him just because his wings are black? “I’m gonna say it again: angels are dicks. You’re smart, funny, good with your hands, and easy on the eyes. Any angel would be lucky to have you.”

“Try telling that to them. None of them want me.”

“Well, they’re stupid,” Dean says stubbornly. “I’m tellin’ you, with a face and body like yours, if you were a human, people would be lining up for a chance to be with you.”

“You don’t have to say that just to be nice.”

“Cas, buddy, I _rarely_ say things just to be nice. I’m more of a ‘the whole truth and nothing but the truth’ kind of guy.”

“Well, let me ask you something then.” Dean nods. “Do humans ever choose one person and one person only to be with, or does everybody jump from person to person?”

Dean considers for a moment. “Some people choose to wait to have sex until they get married or end up marrying the person they lose their virginity to. Some people never settle down and sleep with whoever they want forever. Some people get married and _still_ sleep with other people.” Castiel’s wings twitch again, but Dean was expecting that reaction. “And then there’s the people like me, who have been with other people but would happily settle down if I found somebody who I loved who loved me back.”

“Aren’t... aren’t you worried that the person you want won’t want you back when they learn you’ve been with other people?” Castiel asks.

“Never even crossed my mind,” Dean says honestly. “It’s almost unheard of for somebody my age to be a virgin.”

“How many years have you lived?”

Dean answers with a grin on his face because of how weird it sounds phrased like that. “I’m 32.”

Castiel nods and paces back and forth again. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Go for it.”

“How many humans have you had sex with?”

Dean snorts with laughter. _This really is like every conversation he’s had with his exes._ “I dunno, five or six.”

“That’s _so many,”_ Castiel says in disbelief.

“It’s really not. I was seventeen the first time I had sex, so in fifteen years I’ve only been with five people. And I was in love with all of them but one.”

“W-why? Why would you have sex with somebody you didn’t love?”

“Because I was young and lonely at the time. Only took doin’ it once to figure out no-strings sex wasn’t gonna make me feel any less lonely.”

“No strings sex,” Castiel repeats.

“Yeah. Sex just because it feels good, not because of feelings.” Cas lets out a soft gasp of surprise before he covers his mouth. Dean can’t help but roll his eyes at how dramatic he’s being over this. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“Not _for you,”_ Castiel says pointedly. “But this is a big deal for me. I’ve never heard of such a thing! I never even thought about having sex just for pleasure. It’s like... finding out something isn’t the way you thought it was for your entire life.”

Dean raises his eyebrows, feeling amusement creep in when he realizes that Cas must have forgotten that he had no idea angels existed this morning. “Yeah, kinda like finding people with giant wings who speak English, can lift a grown ass man like he’s light as a feather, and thinks you’re a freak just for having sex?” Dean asks.

“I don’t think badly of you for that,” Castiel says seriously, turning to face him. “I could never do what you do, but I don’t judge you for your own customs or beliefs.”

“Really?” he asks dryly. “‘Cause the way you were acting and asking if I worry about people not liking me because I’ve been with other people makes me think _you_ think that way.” As he says the words he realizes he actually feels insulted and uncomfortable thinking that Cas thinks badly of him for his sexual history, which is both weird and unexpected.

“I don’t,” Castiel assures him. “I wasn’t thinking of you when I asked you that. I was just thinking in general. Honestly, at this point I would likely take a mate who had their pair bond broken by death if they wanted me, and that angel would have been with somebody else, too. So it’s almost the same thing.”

He _hates_ the way it sounds like Cas is willing to take the first angel who looks at him - even if he or she is a dick - just because he wants to find a mate so badly, and does what he can to try to help him see he can be picky if he wants to be. “Hey, if it’s important to you to be with somebody who’s a virgin, too, you should wait. You shouldn’t just take the first person who wants you.”

Castiel shakes his head sadly. “You said you tried no-strings attached sex because you were lonely?” he asks. Dean nods. Their eyes lock, and Dean’s hit with wide eyes that are haunted with sadness. “You are not the only one who feels lonely. Your company tonight is the most interaction I’ve had with another person since I moved out of my parents’ nest. You likely can’t even comprehend the way I physically _ache_ with loneliness most of the time,” he admits, looking down at the ground. “It’s not natural for angels not to mate, Dean. We’re very physical creatures. It’s... it’s _torture_ being alone. I’m - I’m the only one in the garrison over the age of twenty who hasn’t made a pair bond. I’m ostracized because of it. It’s even the reason I don’t have friends,” he says quietly. He stops to sniffle, and for a second Dean’s afraid the guy’s going to start crying, but then his voice grows stronger with anger as he continues talking. “Nobody trusts me because they think I’ll try to steal their mate, and the older I get, the less appealing the newly matured fledglings are. My wings are messy, my nest is empty, and most of the time I sit here alone wondering why... why I even bother to live through the day when I know I’m not far away from being completely tethered to the ground when - when my wings get so out of sorts I-I won’t - I won’t - I won’t even be able to f-fly anymore!” he chokes out before burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shake and his wings look like they’ve deflated entirely, hanging by his sides completely limp.

Dean’s heart absolutely breaks for him. Even though he can’t walk, he gets to his feet and hops on one foot (completely without grace) until he tentatively rests one hand on Castiel’s shoulder - both to steady himself and to comfort him.

Castiel wipes at his face which is now streaked with tears and avoids his gaze. “You shouldn’t be walking around.”

“Sounded like you needed a friend. Can I give you a hug, Cas?” he asks.

“You don’t - you don’t have to,” Castiel stammers as fresh tears fall.

“I want to. If it’s okay?”

Castiel hesitates for long enough that Dean wonders if maybe a hug is crossing some kind of angel boundary he doesn’t know about, but finally, he nods. Aware that Castiel still isn’t comfortable with him touching his wings, he wraps his arms around his neck carefully and pulls him in until Castiel’s head lands on his shoulder. Castiel’s arms tentatively slide around his back, and when Dean doesn’t stop him, it’s like a flip switches and Castiel’s fingers grip onto his fleece and his shoulders start shaking all over again.

He wonders when Castiel last had physical contact with someone, and his heart breaks for him a second time.

“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean soothes him. “It’s gonna be okay, buddy. I promise it’s gonna be okay. You’re not gonna be alone anymore, okay? We can be friends. I can hike up here on weekends when it’s not too cold, and you can fly over to my cabin whenever you want.”

Castiel sniffles and nods on his shoulder, but still doesn’t say anything.

“And I know you said your wings are only supposed to be groomed by a mate or by family, but if it comes down to you not being able to fly anymore? Fuck that. You were born to fly and that’s exactly what you’re gonna do. Once you feel comfortable with it, I’ll fix them for you if you tell me how. Nobody needs to know I did it but us. We won’t tell anybody.”

“They’ll know,” Castiel whispers.

“So fucking what? They’re just gonna let you be stuck on the ground? That’s their solution? Screw them, Cas. I’m not going to let that happen to you. Even if I have to make some kind of giant wing comb or something so technically I don’t have to touch you, I’ll figure something out. You’re not gonna lose the ability to fly. Not when I’m around.”

The breath is stolen from his lungs when Castiel’s wings encircle him. What feels like a million soft, fluffy feathers surround him from head to toe, and suddenly all he can hear and all he can smell is Castiel. His wings shut out absolutely everything else.

“Sorry,” Castiel whispers sheepishly.

“I’m good,” Dean promises, also whispering.

The salty scent of sweat on skin, fresh air, and wood carvings fills his nostrils, and he tries not to think about how Cas is so muscular he literally feels like a heated cement wall pressed up against him. Castiel is _so warm_ he could easily lose the fleece and still be comfortable this close to him, and it only makes him want to move closer. With a mental head shake, he reminds himself he’s supposed to be offering comfort, not perving on the guy. Since Cas seems to be okay so far, he strokes the back of his neck with his thumb.

Castiel’s breath hitches, and if it’s possible, he clings to him even harder.

“I got you, Cas,” Dean says again. “It’s gonna be okay, buddy.”

Castiel inhales deeply, tilting his head back and inhaling once more with his nose right under Dean’s ear. Dean’s body erupts in goosebumps at the sensation of his warm breath against his skin and his blood heats up with arousal. It’s been too damn long since he’s been close to somebody like this, and apparently his dick is way more interested in all of his hot, bare skin than it’s concerned with the fact that Cas isn’t even human.

“Honey,” Castiel says suddenly, startling him. Cas leans his upper body back so he can look up at Dean. His bright blue eyes are still glistening with tears and there’s tear tracks on his face, but he has a soft smile on his face now. His lips are incredibly pink, there’s a dark shadow of stubble along his chin and his sharp jaw, and when Dean’s eyes flick back up to Castiel’s, he notices how long his eyelashes are and the way tears are still clinging to them.

 _Jesus,_ he has a pretty face.

Castiel’s wings go slack and start to fold up behind him again, and when the sound of the rain still drizzling outside and the soup boiling on the fire comes back to him, he realizes Cas said something and he didn’t answer him because he was too busy staring and thinking about how hot he is. To put some space between them, he steps back without thinking. He curses vehemently, but before he can fall, Cas’s wings are around him again and supporting his weight until Castiel scoops him up in his arms.

“I told you you shouldn’t be up,” Castiel comments as he carries him back to the bench.

Dean can’t concentrate on anything other than how fucking bad his foot hurts again. “Mother of crap that hurts,” Dean complains.

“I’ll start some more tea once I deal with the soup.”

Dean props his foot up onto the bench with a wince and tries to think of anything except for how much it hurts. “What did you say before?”

“Hm? Oh. Honey. That’s the something sweet you smell like that I couldn’t place earlier.”

“Huh.” He doesn’t use any products with honey in them or anything, so he wonders why he smells like that to Cas.

“I really like it,” Castiel admits, blushing slightly.

He feels his stomach flutter and tries to make a joke to shake it off. “Well, I guess that’s good since you’re stuck with me now.”

Cas offers him a wobbly smile. “Thank you for being so kind to me, Dean. I’m sorry I fell apart like that.”

“Don’t worry about it, man. I’ve been there, believe me.”

“Perhaps we can be stuck with each other then,” Castiel offers shyly. Then he ducks his head and turns towards the fire to check on the soup.

Dean’s cheeks feel a little warm, too, when he realizes he doesn’t hate the way that sounds. “Yeah. Maybe.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dean tips his head back with the wooden bowl held to his lips to drink down every last drop of delicious, warm broth.

“God damn that was good,” Dean sighs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“There’s still more,” Castiel offers, his wings fluffed up with what Dean’s guessing is pride. They’ve been like that since Dean complimented the first bite he took, and they’ve stayed that way ever since, probably because Dean kept making small sounds of satisfaction sporadically while he ate.

“I already ate two bowls. Unless I plan on rolling myself down the mountain to get home, I need to take it easy,” Dean tells him on a bit of a laugh. “But seriously. Best soup I’ve ever had.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I had no idea how satisfying it could be to watch somebody enjoy a meal I’ve cooked.”

“You’ve never cooked for anybody?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I’ve offered to share but nobody was interested.”

“You’re a hell of a cook if the soup’s anything to go by. It was their loss, Cas, trust me.”

“Cas,” Castiel repeats under his breath.

Dean gives him a one shoulder shrug and shoots him a smile to go with it. “You’ve got a long name. Easier to say Cas than Castiel. I can try not to if it bothers you, though.”

“I don’t mind. I’d let you call me worse if it meant I could spend time with you,” Castiel admits with a sideways smile.

Considering he himself is an expert in it, Dean can spot the self deprecation from a mile away. “So first we gotta sort out your wings, and then work on your self-worth,” Dean says, knocking their shoulders together playfully. It’s enough to draw a bigger smile from Cas, and the wing resting behind him curls around him more closely, pulling them closer together.

“Very physical creatures,” Castiel reminds him with a shake of his head. “My wings seem to be taking advantage of your proximity.”

“I’m gonna need to lose the sweater soon if you keep sitting so close. You’re like a frickin’ space heater, man.”

“I can move,” Castiel offers.

“Nah, you’re just making me all warm and sleepy now that I have a full stomach.” Castiel doesn’t respond with anything more than a shy smile, so Dean takes the opportunity to ask a question that’s been on his mind. “How does the wing stuff work with another angel?”

“What wing stuff are you referring to?”

“Well, your wings have kinda curled around me a few times, which is fine for me, but what happens when another angel’s there? Wouldn’t her wings get in the way?”

“I haven’t been this close to another angel other than my parents,” Castiel says. “But my dad’s wings always used to just go over my mom’s. They would just go like this,” Castiel answers, putting the palm of his hand against the back of his other hand.

“Like spooning,” Dean says. “How two spoons stack together.”

“Oh. Yes, that explains it well from what I remember. I imagine it would feel pretty nice.”

“I’d wing spoon with you if I could,” Dean teases.

Castiel huffs out a small laugh, quickly disagreeing. “No, you wouldn’t. Because if you were an angel you would have been chosen for a pair bond a long time ago, and then you would ignore me like everybody else does.”

“If I was an angel, I’m pretty sure I would’ve chosen you based on looks alone, unless you’ve got a Scarlett Johansson look-alike in your garrison,” Dean admits.

“That’s nice of you to say, but you would have been disgusted by my wings just like everybody else is.”

“Dude. I’m bi and literally _cuddling_ with another species I didn’t know existed this morning. You think I wouldn’t be open to different?”

“You’re bi?” Castiel repeats, like he doesn’t understand the term.

“Bisexual. Sexually attracted to both guys and girls,” Dean explains. “And uh, heh,” he laughs awkwardly, “sorry if that makes this wing action awkward for you.”

“Um,” Castiel stutters, his cheeks turning pink and his feathers starting to twitch. Dean arches his back away because they kinda tickle, and almost immediately they still, pulling him even closer. “No. It doesn’t make it awkward. I have no experience with either gender, but I think both are physically appealing as well.”

“Not exactly shocked to hear that considering your wings are all over me,” Dean laughs.

“My wings behaving like this isn’t sexual,” Castiel explains. “It’s just instinct.”

Dean tries to smile through the sting of rejection before he remembers Cas isn’t human and he shouldn’t feel that way anyway. He does what he usually does when he feels uncomfortable and tries to shake it off with a joke. “Well don’t worry about sparing my feelings,” Dean says sarcastically.

“No!” Castiel gasps. “That’s not what I meant! Of course I would - I mean, I would if I could. You must know you’re extremely attractive, Dean. But angels are forbidden to even talk to humans let alone court them.”

“And yet here we are, talking,” Dean says with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“One thing is very different from the other,” Castiel says haughtily.

Because he seems so appalled by the suggestion, Dean can’t resist being a bit of an asshole and pushing just a little bit more. “Just sayin’, scandal is scandal. We’re just talking now, but the next thing you know you’ll be trying to get into my pants.”

“Dean,” Castiel says, annoyance bleeding through in his tone of voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean chuckles. “It’s been a while, and considering I plan on avoiding people for as long as I can, this is really the only chance I’ve got to flirt.”

“So you have no chance at all then,” Castiel tosses back, knocking into Dean’s shoulder the way Dean did to him a few minutes ago to lessen the blow.

Dean laughs outright at that, and now sufficiently put in his place - somehow without the bite of rejection he felt a minute ago - he lets it go. With a shrug, he straightens his leg out and pulls his phone out of his pocket. Eight thirty. “Feels like bedtime, but it’s still early.”

“I’m tired, too, considering I wasn’t very active today.”

“I think it’s the cuddling,” Dean says, grinning.

“Could very well be. It’s making us both smell incredibly happy.”

“Wait, you can _smell_ how I feel?”

“Not all the time,” Castiel says. “Just if you’re experiencing very strong emotions. Right now I can tell how content you are, even though you’re still in pain.”

“Well, I guess it’s kinda even then since your wings give you away, too.”

“Once you figure them out, yes.”

“I’ve got some of it down. When you puff up you’re proud or pleased. Fluttering when you’re nervous. Flapping when you’re freaked out.”

Castiel sighs heavily. “The other angels are going to kill me if they find out you know all of this.”

“I’m not exactly about to go have tea with any of them,” Dean reminds him.

“No, I suppose not. I need to go outside before bed. Do you?”

The question confuses him for a second before he understands his meaning. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

“I’ll just set some water to boil and then we can go.”

And so a few minutes later, Dean has his fleece back on and is swept up into Castiel’s arms and carried outside into the dark. “Rain stopped,” Dean comments.

“Do you want me to find you a walking stick now?” Castiel asks as he walks towards the same tree Dean used last time.

“Nah, I probably shouldn’t leave injured and in the dark. I’ll take off in the morning.” Castiel nods. “Can you see out here?”

“Not quite as well as in the light, but still fairly clearly, yes.” Dean doesn’t say anything, busy thinking about that, when Cas sets him down on his feet - well, foot. “Okay, same as last time. Stay quiet, and let me know when you’re ready.”

He flies off with a _whoosh_ and Dean empties his bladder once again, wondering what Cas does when he needs to drop a deuce, and then immediately tries to force the thought away as he realizes he probably doesn’t wanna know. Once he’s zipped back up he braces himself on the tree and says, “Cas?”

Unlike last time, Cas doesn’t appear right in front of him and he doesn’t hear anything. Maybe he was too quiet. He raises his voice slightly and tries again. “Castiel?”

Still nothing. With no other choice, he leans back against the tree to wait a couple of minutes, figuring Cas might need some extra time. Then he calls his name once more. This time, his heart starts beating in his ears when he hears what sounds like a twig snapping.

“Cas?” he says quietly.

No response. Thinking something’s sneaking up on him, he looks around blindly for something to defend himself with and curses himself for coming out in the fucking mountains at night completely unarmed. He can’t even fucking walk, for god’s sake. There’s a fallen branch on the ground beside the tree he’s leaning against, so he bends over (carefully) and grabs it like a club.

He hears what sounds like the rustling of leaves, much closer than last time but coming from the same direction. His heart starts racing and his hands are beginning to sweat when he raises his branch defensively. It’s thicker at the base, and he figures he could probably knock somebody out with it if he managed to catch them on the temple. Then his stomach rolls at the very thought. Jesus, he really doesn’t want to have to hurt something else. An animal, an angel, or even worse, a human.

He gets a flash of the blood stain under the kid he shot and can feel his heart start to gallop in his chest. _Fuck,_ he can’t do this right now. He needs to breathe. He can hear his breaths coming out in short and fast bursts, and he concentrates on trying to steady them while also straining to hear for whatever’s coming closer. He knows it’s too late, though. He’s already losing it. He can’t catch his breath, his vision starts to blur as panic sets in, and he knows he’s seconds away from blacking out.

He just about jumps out of his skin when he hears a rough sounding, “Dean?”

Just like that, the branch drops, and relief rushes through him so strong and so fast he feels lightheaded.

“Cas - Cas - help,” he wheezes, struggling to stay standing. “I can’t - can’t breathe,” he tells him.

Warm hands frame his face and tilt his head up at the same moment wings surround him, blocking out everything but Cas. He hears Cas let out a sharp gasp and how he makes a low, desperate sound in the back of his throat that lasts for a heartbeat before Dean registers the sound of his voice over the buzzing in his head.

“Open your eyes,” Castiel says, his voice commanding but still soft. Dean blinks a few times before he can make himself listen, and then all he can see is those bright blue eyes, seeming to shine even in the dark. “Stay with me. Are you injured?”

Dean shakes his head slightly in his hands.

“P-panicked,” Dean admits, his voice cracking.

“You’re safe,” Castiel says immediately. “I would never let anything happen to you. You’re okay now. Take a deep breath.” When Dean still struggles to comply, Castiel brings their faces even closer together. Now he can smell something crisp mixed with the scent of wood shavings, something so inexplicably _Cas_ that it sneaks its way inside of him, slipping through his nostrils and beginning to center him. “Watch me, Dean. In.” Dean copies Castiel’s long breath in. “Out.” He exhales slowly, already feeling some of the panic starting to ebb. “There you go. Again, Dean. Just like me. In. Out.”

Dean exhales shakily this time, and when his body begins to relax bit by bit, he feels something silky soft slipping through his fingers. During the third guided breath, it’s with horror and embarrassment that he realizes his fingers are buried deep inside Castiel’s wings and he’s clinging to them for dear life.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Cas,” Dean whispers, carefully extracting his hands from where they were around Castiel’s back and clutching at his feathers. Castiel’s eyes flutter closed as Dean’s fingers slip through his feathers, those long eyelashes of his coming to rest on his cheek, and his jaw slack with a look of ecstasy Dean’s pretty damn sure he’s gonna be seeing in his head the next fifty times he jerks off in the shower. Trying to get his brain out of the damn gutter _again,_ he keeps apologizing. “I swear I didn’t mean to touch your wings without your permission.”

“I believe you,” Castiel answers. His voice is lower and rougher than Dean’s ever heard it, and the grit in it goes right to his dick.

He needs to put some space between them before he does something stupid like try to kiss him. ‘Cause now that Castiel’s eyes are open again, Cas is looking at him like he’s the most precious thing in existence, and his hands are so warm and friggin’ huge on his face that he kinda wants to leave them there forever. He swallows hard when he covers Castiel’s hands with his own to pull them away gently, but then Castiel exhales again, expelling a puff of that crisp smell right into his face. It settles warm and dewy over Dean’s lips, and his mind goes blissfully blank. His tongue darts out to taste Castiel’s breath, and at the very first hint of the flavor, he’s pulled into Cas like a magnet.

Castiel’s eyes go round with shock for a fraction of a second until he moves in, too, pressing Dean more firmly back against the tree behind him with his hips. Dean’s hands drop to steady himself on Castiel’s shoulders instinctively, and his warm, bare skin beneath his palms has his blood racing through his veins with anticipation.

He closes his eyes when Cas is only millimeters away, parting his lips slightly to welcome what he knows is coming, what he wants to happen. But instead of Castiel’s lips against his, he feels his windswept hair brush lightly across his temple a split second before Cas drags his nose along his neck, slowly and deliberately.

Dean’s eyes open in surprise and confusion, having no fucking clue what the hell is going on. It isn’t any clearer when Cas does it again on the other side of his neck, this time with his cheek. The rough scrape of stubble on his skin combined with the warmth of Castiel against his neck causes a shiver to move through him.

Cas inhales deeply with his nose only a breath away from his skin before he pulls back to look Dean in the face. Castiel’s chest is heaving and he has a small, almost secretive smile on his lips. “Are you okay now?” he asks Dean.

“I - I think so. You okay?” Dean checks.

“I’m fine. May I lift you to carry you back the cave?”

Dean nods shakily. “Yeah. Okay.”

As usual, Cas lifts him like he weighs nothing and carries him into the cave where the now familiar scent of dirt and vegetables greets him. Cas settles him on the bench and starts making Dean the tea he boiled water for. He disappears to do something in the back of the cave until the air smells like cinnamon tree again, then Cas returns to pour him a mug of tea and carries it over.

“What happened out there?” Castiel asks him gently. He sits next to him and wraps one wing around his back, tucking him in nice and close.

Dean shakes his head, shame and embarrassment already having wormed its way inside of him while Cas was busy. “I freaked out.”

“Why?”

“I called your name a couple of times but you must not have heard me. Then I heard a twig snap and - I know it’s stupid, but I thought something was cornering me.”

“It was just me,” Castiel says gently. “I did hear you, but last time you said I startled you by coming too fast, so I was coming slowly so I didn’t scare you.”

Dean laughs humorlessly. “That worked well.”

“I still don’t understand,” Castiel says carefully. “Once you saw it was me, why were you still so scared?”

“You know the thing I don’t want to talk about?” Dean asks. Castiel nods in answer. “It gets in my head sometimes and it’s all I can see. It’s like I’m being dragged right back there and it’s happening all over again. I thought I was going to have to try to hurt something to defend myself, and then I was back there in my head and I couldn’t shake it off. Couldn’t breathe. Started acting like a fucking lunatic, as usual,” he says bitterly.

“You’re not a lunatic,” Castiel says firmly. “I’ve never seen someone so frightened. I was frightened for you and I couldn’t even see what you were seeing.” Dean swallows down the lump in his throat. “You were very brave, though.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah, clinging to you like a little kid was real brave.”

“Sometimes asking for help takes more courage than not,” Castiel says wisely.

“It had nothin’ to do with courage,” Dean insists. “My choices were to ask you to help me or pass out in the middle of nowhere.”

“I would have helped you either way, but doing it while you were conscious so you were able to explain what was happening was definitely preferable to the alternative.” He waits a beat before he adds, “You passing out would have scared the life out of me.”

“I warned you I wasn’t put together,” Dean reminds him.

“And yet you managed to keep it together after all.”

“Because of you.”

“Still counts,” Castiel says firmly. Dean scoffs again bitterly, but Cas ignores him. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Well, finish your tea then, take some more painkillers, and then we can go to sleep.”

“How’s that gonna work, exactly?” Dean asks.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Castiel discloses, his wings fluttering. “And I was thinking - you know how you said scandal is scandal?” Dean nods in response, wondering where he’s going with that, especially after whatever the hell happened between them outside. “We’re going to break another rule and share my nest.”

“Your _nest?_ You sleep in a nest?”

“Yes. And though it will be a tight fit since I didn’t build it for two, we’ll have to make do for tonight. Considering neither of us will be able to sleep on the ground, there’s really no other alternative.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think I’m gonna be able to sleep on a pile of sticks, Cas.”

Castiel bristles beside him. “Perhaps you should wait to see it before you start making insulting assumptions.”

He does sound insulted, so Dean backtracks. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure it’s comfortable for you, but you’re also surrounded by a shit ton of feathers that are soft as hell.”

His feathers puff up at the compliment and Dean can’t help but grin. He’s adorable when he goes all fluffy like that.

“Would you please just give it a chance?” Castiel asks him. Dean sighs and rolls his eyes but ultimately agrees after Cas looks at him with wide, pleading eyes he finds he can’t say no to.

“Fine,” he agrees with another sigh.

So he finishes his tea and takes his painkillers, and when Cas wraps an arm around him and walks him past the still burning fire, he asks, “Aren’t you going to put that out before you fall asleep?”

“Why? It’s not as if it can catch the cave on fire.”

Dean snickers at the truth of that as they make their way to the back of the cave. “How far does this go?”

“Almost at the end,” Castiel says, and that becomes apparent as the ceiling starts to get lower and lower until he can feel his hair brushing the rock above him. “Here we go.” There’s no light back here, so at first, his eyes can’t quite focus on what’s in front of them. His first impression is a big dark blob, but as his eyes adjust, it starts to take shape.

It’s circular like he expected a nest to be, but it looks like it’s dug down into the earth some instead of being built on the surface like he thought it would be. There are definitely sticks involved on the outside piled up two feet or so and weaved together like a typical bird’s nest, but it’s the hole inside that has his attention. The bottom is covered by what looks like...

“Is that a _blanket?”_ Dean asks, probably more shocked than he should be.

“It’s a nest pillow,” Castiel corrects. “Every angel gets one when they leave their parent’s nest for the first time, and it’s our job to care for it so it lasts as long as we do.”

“What’s it made out of?”

“Moose hide and our own feathers,” Castiel explains.

“Now I kinda get why you were ticked when I complained about sleeping on sticks.”

“We’re not as uncivilized as you think,” Castiel says. “I’ll help you inside.”

With that, he’s lifted into his arms, and Castiel steps into his nest. He lowers himself down onto his knees and then sets Dean on the middle of the nest pillow. It’s soft and comfortable, but not very thick. Kind of reminds him of sleeping in a sleeping bag. He would guess the diameter of the nest is about four feet, and he can feel the way the ground is dug out underneath him, shallow but obviously angled towards to the center, and he shoots Cas a questioning look.

His wings droop and he says, “I know it isn’t much. Usually paired couples use both of their feathers to fill one nest pillow, or they stack them together for more comfort, but obviously there’s only me. And I know my wings are messy in spots, but I groom the ones that fall out before I use them so my nest pillow is as soft as possible. I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything better -”

Dean cuts him off with, “Cas, this is great man. It’s honestly way more than I expected. It feels really soft and comfortable. _I told you_ your wings are awesome, and that includes your feathers,” he says with a wide smile. Once Castiel’s feathers perk back up, he gets to work on removing his shoe from his good foot. With the warmth from the fire still burning and because he knows Cas is gonna be close, he takes off his fleece and lays that in the center of the nest, thinking a little bit more fluff couldn’t hurt. He can hear the catch in Castiel’s breath and peers over at him to see his wings stock still again and his eyes wide. “What’s the matter? What’d I do?”

“N-nothing,” Castiel says, clearly lying. Dean gives him a look to show he isn’t buying it, but Castiel doesn’t elaborate.

“Do you not want me to put this in here?”

His wings flutter at the tips and he remains silent for several seconds before he finally answers, “It’s okay. I - I do want you to.”

“Okay then,” Dean says, still confused but taking him at his word. “Do you have a preferred side of the nest?”

Castiel tilts his head to the side and purses his lips. “I always sleep in the middle.”

He’s gonna be terrible to share a bed with, he can already tell. “Unless you plan on sleeping on top of me, that’s not gonna work tonight.”

Cas laughs a little. “Do you have a side you prefer?”

“I’ll take the right if it’s all the same to you.”

Castiel nods his ascent, so Dean scooches over and lays on his chosen side of the nest, getting as comfortable as he can without an actual pillow. Finally he figures he’s as good as he’s gonna get, but Cas is still sitting up perfectly still.

“What’s up, Cas?”

His wings flutter again, but his voice is calm when he says, “I’m suddenly feeling quite nervous.”

“First time sharing your nest, right?” Dean checks, and Castiel nods. “I promise I’ll be gentle,” Dean quips, but Castiel looks decidedly unimpressed so he sobers up. “It’s not a big deal, okay? No different than what we were doing on the bench except for lying down instead of sitting up.”

“The connotations of sharing a nest, though...”

“Are all in your head. I’ve shared beds with lots of friends, Cas. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that.”

“My wings...”

“Are probably gonna wrap me up like I’m a burrito, right?”

“I don’t know what that means, but I can already feel them wanting to be closer to you.”

“Told you, I’m a likable guy,” Dean says with a wink. “Just try to stay calm, okay? If you get too close, I’m gonna tell you. If I’m too close or do something you’re not comfortable with, you tell me. If we talk, we can make it work, yeah?”

Cas nods again and then asks, “Can you sit back up for a second please?” Dean pushes up on his hands and sits up, waiting for what Cas wants. He raises his eyebrows when Castiel’s wing takes the spot he was lying in when Cas lies down. “You want me to sleep on your wing?”

“If you don’t mind, then yes.”

“I can give it a shot,” Dean says, figuring that’s the easiest way for them both to fit in the nest anyway. “I’m not gonna hurt it by lying on it, am I?”

“I don’t think so, but I’ll let you know,” Castiel says, and Dean realizes he’s as clueless about this as he is.

He lies down carefully, making sure to distribute his weight as evenly as he can, and once he’s flat he asks, “You good?”

“Your shoulder is digging into the membrane at the very top of my wing,” Castiel says. Dean repositions by sliding down a bit and Castiel sighs happily. “That’s much better.” The words are barely out of his mouth when his wing curls around Dean, tugging him against Castiel’s side.

“Bossy fuckers,” Dean murmurs, making Cas laugh again. “Is this too much?”

“No, it feels… nice,” Cas says quietly.

“Would you be okay with putting your arm around me too so our shoulders aren’t squished together?”

“Yes, I think so.” Dean lifts up a bit and Cas snakes his arm underneath, and Dean goes ahead and turns onto his side so his head is pillowed in the nook of Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel’s other wing drapes over him, and just like he thought, he’s officially a burrito. With Castiel’s skin warm against him and his wings wrapped around him like a blanket, he’s as warm and as comfortable as he’s been all day.

He sighs happily. “Found the sweet spot.”

“You’re comfortable?” Cas asks, his voice still quiet.

“Hell yeah. You?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this comfortable in my life,” he admits, making Dean smile. They’re both quiet for some time, long enough for him to wonder if Castiel has already fallen asleep. Castiel’s scent, his soft feathers, and the heat coming from his body curves his lips into a small smile, and he’s just drifting into sleep when Cas whispers, “This is so much better than I dreamed it would be.”

Knowing he’s thinking about how it would have been to share a nest with a mate and not with him, he frowns slightly, pulled abruptly out of the little cocoon of happiness he was drifting in just a second ago. “Sorry you didn’t get to do this for the first time with somebody you care about.”

“I care about you!” Castiel says, sounding insulted that Dean implied that he didn’t. “Honestly, Dean, you’re the kindest, most considerate and accepting person I’ve ever met. I’ve spent more time with you today than I have with anybody in almost twenty years, and it was the most wonderful day I can ever remember having.”

He sounds completely genuine, but there’s no way he meant that how it came out. He tries to let him off the hook by using a joking tone of voice when he asks, “You really tryin’ to tell me you already like this sorry excuse for a human better than all the other angels?”

“Yes,” Castiel whispers, slicing right through his joke and cutting him to the bone with his honesty.

Joy spreads through him and he thinks, _fuck it,_ before he snuggles even closer and wraps his arm around Castiel’s middle. He hasn’t shared a bed with anybody in almost two years. He’s man enough to admit that he enjoys a good cuddle and fuckin’ _loves_ to be held, and so what if Cas doesn’t want it as much as his wings do? It’s one night and he’s gonna take what he can get.

Castiel sighs happily and Dean’s confused but oddly pleased when he feels Cas rub his cheek through his hair along the top of his head, then when he repeats it with his other cheek and audibly breathes in the scent.

“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel murmurs softly.

“‘Night, Cas.”

_“Show me your hands!” Dean orders. The kid smiles at him, his hands dropping behind his back as he takes another step closer. Dean knows the kid is too close. Closer than he should be, and following the procedures drilled into his brain, he takes a few steps to the side to take cover behind his open patrol car door._

_“Hey! Let me see your hands,” Dean says again. The kid only smiles, showing an uneven row of rotten teeth, before he raises one hand over his head with a gun gripped in his fingers. Dean feels his stomach clench with fear._

_He knows what’s about to happen._

_He knows Jo is about to come out of the Gas ‘n’ Sip, and his heart starts pounding in anticipation._

_“Drop the gun!” Dean yells. “Get on the ground with your hands behind your back!”_

_The kid just smiles wider with the gun still pointed straight up in the air. “You gonna shoot me, officer?”_ _  
_

Don’t shoot him, _his brain shouts at him. “I don’t want to shoot you, but you need to put the gun down and get on the ground with your hands behind your back.”_

_He knows the moment is coming, and sure enough, his eyes flick towards the entrance to the Gas ‘n’ Sip where Jo’s coming through the door - except it’s not Jo. It’s Cas._

_Cas, fully dressed in a suit, trench coat, and blue tie knotted backwards around his neck, with his huge black wings tucked neatly behind his back._

_His heart stops the second the kid turns to follow his gaze._

_Castiel’s eyes are so wide with fear he can_ feel _his panic, and he yells again, “Drop the gun!”_

_But instead, the kid brings the gun down from over his head and points it right at Cas._

_Castiel’s eyes meet his, he has a fraction of a second to question himself before he aims at center mass the way he was trained and fires at another human being for the first time in twelve years._

_But nothing happens._

_No kickback from the Glock. No sound of shock from the kid as the bullet tears through his skin. No stain of red spreading on his shirt._

_Instead, the gunshot comes from less than twenty feet away, and he looks up just in time to see a bullet rip through Castiel’s chest._

_There’s the sound._

_The low grunt of pain._

_The blue eyes, already lost and confused, searching for him across the parking lot._

_The red quickly soaking through the front of his white dress shirt, and Dean, screaming at the top of his lungs._

_“NO!”_

Dean wakes gasping, stuck in a tangle of soft blankets that he can’t break free from no matter how hard he bats at them.

“Dean, _please!”_ he hears. The rough voice and the soft feathers smothering him now click into place when he remembers he’s in the nest in Castiel’s cave.

“I need - I need them off of me.” When Cas’s wings don’t back off, he shoves at them. “Get ‘em off!” he shouts, only finally able to drag in a shaky breath when they aren’t constricting him anymore.

He starts shivering, fucking freezing as the sweat cools on his skin faster than should even be possible, and he concentrates on breathing. He can do this. He’s used to breathing through a nightmare after it ends. In for five seconds, out for five seconds. In for five seconds, out for five seconds. He becomes aware of the pain on the meat of his palms when his fingernails stop digging into them, and his injured foot feeling stiff but not as painful as he thought it would be. Must not have been kicking this time. By his fifth round of deep breaths, the only thing left choking him is embarrassment and shame.

Now thinking more clearly, he lifts his head and sees that Cas is completely out of the nest. When he spots him off to the side, his wings are stretched out towards him but his back is to the cave wall. His chest is heaving and he looks like he’s trying not to cry. “Dean?” he says hoarsely.

“C’mon back. I’m good now.”

“My wings - I can’t stop them -”

“They’re okay. I’m actually freakin’ freezing, so...” He shrugs a shoulder, hoping he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels for Cas and his wings to come back. Thankfully, Cas seems to have no reservations as he practically leaps back into the nest.

“Can I hug you?” Castiel begs, even as his wings enfold him completely.

Dean nods, accepting the offer of comfort after a nightmare for the first time since he started having them. Cas pulls him in instantly, rubbing his face under his chin and along his neck firmly before hooking his chin over Dean’s shoulder and stroking a warm hand down his back. “You’re so cold.”

“Lost my space heater,” Dean says, trying to act normal when really, tears are burning behind his eyes. It feels so good not to be alone right now he can’t even begin to explain the relief.

It’s ridiculous - probably brought on by the vulnerability of the middle of the night - but as he goes limp in Castiel’s arms he has the thought that he couldn’t possibly fall apart with Cas here. Not when he’s holding him together so tightly with his arms _and_ his wings. He wraps his arms around him tighter, realizing he feels safe for once and that he’s gonna have a hell of a time letting him go.

That train of thought is interrupted when he realizes he can feel trembling, though he can’t tell which one of them it’s coming from. “That you or me shaking like a leaf?”

“I believe it’s me,” Castiel admits.

“What’s wrong?”

 _“What’s wrong?”_ Castiel asks, pushing back enough to look him in the face. “You just scared ten years off of my life! You screamed at the top of your lungs in the middle of the night and then tried to fight me off when I tried to help you! My wings were desperate to comfort and soothe you and you - you rejected me.” His voice has dropped to a sad sounding shell of his regular voice, and Dean’s aware of his feathers going lax where they were clinging to him.

Drooping, he’d bet anything.

“Let’s lay back down, okay?” Dean asks. They get situated so Dean’s back on Castiel’s chest again, then Dean breaks the short silence. “I was having another panic attack and I couldn’t breathe with your wings smothering me,” Dean tries to explain. “It wasn’t personal. I didn’t even know where I was at first.”

“It felt extremely personal.”

“It wasn’t,” Dean promises. “I wanted you back here, your wings back here, as soon as I caught my breath.”

“Please know I’m not blaming you. I can’t even imagine what you must have experienced for it to affect you like this. I’m just explaining my own reaction.” He snorts softly, Dean’s head rising and falling with the movement of his chest. “It’s kind of funny. I thought I was so used to rejection by now that I was immune to the sting. Turns out it’s much, much worse after spending the day and half the night with somebody.”

“I wasn’t rejecting you,” Dean says again. “I love your wings, Cas. And I know it was hard for you to stay away when they didn’t want you to,” he says, remembering the tears swimming in his eyes. “So just, y’know, thanks for listening even though you didn’t understand.”

“That’s what you said to me earlier. Just because it was okay to cradle you in my wings earlier doesn’t mean it always will be.”

“Man, I sound smart,” he quips.

“Do you want to talk about your nightmare?” Cas asks, once again ignoring his bullshit attempt at changing the subject.

“No.”

He sighs with relief when Castiel lets it go just like that. No pushing, no telling him how much better he would feel if he talked about it. Instead, it’s a genuine sounding, “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Just - just keep holding onto me,” he says quietly, burrowing in even closer.

“Happily,” Castiel answers, his free arm coming up to cover Dean’s hand with his where it rests on Castiel’s chest. Dean’s fingers slide around his wrist to grip it tightly, keeping him exactly where he is. He matches his breathing to Castiel’s, their chests rising and falling in sync, soothing him one breath at a time until he feels like he can fall asleep again. “Can I touch your hair?” Cas whispers.

“Mmhmm,” Dean answers sleepily, his eyes drifting closed as Castiel’s fingers begin brushing through his hair from his temple to the back of his head. He does it several times in a soft, rhythmic pattern that would have him purring if he was a cat. A guy could get used to this kind of treatment.

“Feels nice,” he slurs, any fear he was feeling before now entirely replaced with the warmth and security Cas is providing him with.

“Yes, it does,” Castiel agrees.

That’s the last thing he’s aware of before he falls back asleep.

When he wakes again, it’s because he’s overly warm. Everything seems to come to him slowly.  He’s aware of the light streaming in from the mouth of the cave and Castiel’s feathers still wrapped around him tightly. At some point in the middle of the night they must have rolled together, because they’re both on their sides facing one another and Castiel’s face is buried in his neck. His skin’s about a billion degrees and Dean figures that’s what woke him up, but then he feels Cas rub his face along his neck like he’d been doing the night before, and he hears a soft humming sound come from his throat.

Maybe Cas meant to wake him up?

“Cas?” Dean asks quietly.

Cas responds with a low, dragged out moan that would put porn stars everywhere to shame and a roll of his hips that pushes his substantial erection directly against Dean’s.

Unexpected pleasure rocks him to the core and his eyes flutter closed as Cas thrusts against him again and again, his hard cock slotting against Dean’s and providing _delicious_ friction. He makes a sound of pleasure himself when he notices Castiel has a handful of his ass and is holding him in place before his mind catches up and he realizes there’s no fucking way Cas is awake and dry humping him voluntarily.

“Cas, wake up, man,” Dean says firmly.

“Dean,” Castiel moans, only increasing the pace and intensity of his thrusting.

In Dean’s mind, he knows without question that this is not okay, and he needs to wake Cas up. But his body (the body that hasn’t had anything but his own hand rubbing against him in a few years) is fully on board with this morning’s events. Regardless of how good it feels, he forces himself to work his hands up to Cas’s shoulders to push him away, but the skin-on-skin contact only seems to drive him on if the newest, low moan rumbling out of him is anything to go by. And _why_ does he have to have a voice made for phone sex when Dean’s trying to convince his dick not to be so willing and eager?

“Cas!” Dean says, louder now. “Castiel, stop!”

The wing that isn’t pinned underneath their bodies straightens out suddenly with a loud flap, arches high over their heads, and Castiel’s body stiffens. For one heart stopping moment, he thinks the dude just came in his Tarzan cloth, but then his face leaves Dean’s neck, and he backs away to look at Dean’s face.

Blinking owlishly, Castiel rasps, “Wha? What?”

Now that he can see his face, he sees Cas is flushed, his eyes are glassy, and his hair is sticking up all over the damn place. “You, uh, must’ve been having a hell of a dream there, buddy,” Dean says carefully, trying to squirm away without making it too obvious that he’s hard and aching.

Unfortunately, they were slotted together so closely there’s no way Cas doesn’t feel the friction the same way he does, and he’s proved right when Cas makes a surprised sound of pleasure right before his eyes go wide with understanding and he starts scrambling away from him.

“Oh no,” Castiel says, sounding horrified as he hops out of the nest. “No, no, no.” Dean tries not to look at the way Castiel’s loincloth is tented obscenely, but he’s already seen it in all its glory and it doesn’t do a damn thing to help his own dick currently trapped in his jeans even after he looks away. “I’m - you - _I was sleeping!”_ he exclaims.

“I know,” Dean says calmly. “I tried to wake you up -”

“Was I... did we...  we weren’t -?” Castiel asks, his wings starting to flap.

“You’re gonna have to put some action words in there if you want me to be more specific, but nothing happened. Everybody kept it in their pants and nobody reached the finish line, so take a breath.”

“But you -” Castiel says, gesturing to Dean’s crotch. “You’re -?”

“Well yeah, I’m not dead,” Dean says, blushing a little bit himself and trying to ignore that he’s still hard as a damn rock. Cas standing there also still hard, flushed, and looking wound so tight he’s about to blow sends a new wave of desire through him that he has to give his head a shake to try to clear out. “But I knew you were sleeping and you didn’t know what you were doing, so even though I - well, I wasn’t exactly complaining - I woke you up.”

Castiel’s eyes close and he inhales deeply right as his wings really start flapping, sending tiny feathers flying in the air. He lets out a sound that Dean can only describe as a whimper before he presses his back against the cave wall just like he did last night. “You just - you smell _so good,”_ Castiel rasps. “You smell like me, like my nest, like - _like sex_ \- and I apologize, Dean, but I’m having a very hard time controlling my reaction to it.”

Listening to how wrecked Cas sounds has heat flashing through him, and his palm presses down on his aching cock through his pants, dragging a hiss from his lips before he can remember not to.

 _“Dean,”_ Castiel says, his deep voice only increasing the need Dean feels to keep touching himself.

“God damn your voice for bein’ hot as fuck,” he breathes.

“I - I need to -” Castiel looks at the mouth of the cave. “Dean, I can’t stay in here and p-possibly calm down when you smell like this. I need to go outside.”

“Probably a good idea. Just gimme a couple minutes to deal with this before you come back.” Castiel looks at him with confusion for a split second before realization dawns and his eyes drop down to where Dean’s hand is still on his crotch. “Unless you wanna stay and watch?” Dean offers with what he hopes is an enticing smile.

Castiel’s wings go from flapping to out straight at his sides where the tops of both wings tilt forward and lower to the ground, almost like his wings are bowing to him again. That only seems to fluster Castiel more as he starts a new wave of apologies and backs away quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. They just - they do what they want. I can’t control them!”

“What’s the big deal?” Dean asks, totally lost.

“I need - I need to go, Dean. I’ll be back. Please don’t leave the nest until I’m there to assist you. I’ll be right back.”

Dean lifts his head enough to watch Cas as he flies out of the cave and considers talking his dick down for about three seconds before he’s unbuttoning his jeans instead. Knowing he’s going to have a mess, he pushes his shirt up to his chest and his pants and boxers down to his knees. He spits into his hand a couple of times and spreads the wetness along the length of his cock as well he as can, groaning softly just from the first easy stroke. He’s still pretty worked up from Cas, and he knows by the way his cockhead is already damp with precum that this isn’t going to take very long.

He closes his eyes, starting to think about how Cas felt like he was _packing_ when he was pressed against him. His hand speeds up when he remembers the warmth of his skin bleeding through his thin t-shirt, how fucking _firm_ his chest was, and the grit in his voice when he was moaning. Fuck he felt good, sounded good, smelled good.

He thumbs over his slit as his hips start to buck his cock through his closed fist, thinking about Castiel beating off to thoughts of him. To the feeling of waking up with somebody next to him for the first time, to the scent he seems to like so much, to the memory of Dean’s ass in his big hands. Cas’s face would be flushed, he’d have that look of rapture on his face like when Dean had his fingers in his wings last night, and his cock would be deep red and shiny at the tip while his hand worked over it furiously.

Dean’s hand matches the brutal pace he imagines Cas using. He thinks about the way those pink lips of his would part with pleasure and licks his own lips, remembering the sweetness of Cas’s breath he’d tasted last night. He thinks about tasting Cas’s lips, getting a hit of that flavor directly from the source, getting Castiel’s first kiss. Their cocks rubbing together again while they kiss, Cas picking him up like he weighs nothing and sliding his big, thick cock down the crack of his ass and catching his head on his rim.

“Fuck,” Dean groans quietly, chasing his orgasm with reckless abandon now as images flash through his mind. Cas fucking his fist, Cas’s wings spread wide and arching high, looking powerful and dangerous. Cas’s washboard abs, Cas coming hot and thick all over those abs, Dean diving down to lick up his mess while Cas looks at him with those innocent-looking blue fuckin’ eyes now dark with lust.

Dean feels heat flash from his cheeks down to his chest, his stomach tightens, his muscles tense, and one final twist on the upstroke has him coming fast and hard with a short cry. Cum explodes out of his cock and onto his stomach. He jackknifes from the intensity of his orgasm while his blood races through his veins, then falls back onto the nest pillow while he catches his breath.

 _Shit, that was good,_ he thinks as he comes down.

A teeny part of him wonders if it’s creepy to jerk off to a guy while laying in his bed, but the other part remembers Cas is probably doing the exact same thing outside, so he shakes it off.

Now having a mess and nothing to clean it up with, he does the only thing he can think to do and pulls off his t-shirt to clean himself up. He should still be fine with his Henley and his fleece, especially since he only has half the walk he planned for yesterday. He balls his t-shirt up and keeps it tucked between his leg and the side of the nest, waiting for Cas to come back so he can stash it in his bag... already trying to convince himself he didn’t just beat off to thoughts of a dude with wings.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean’s kind of chilly with no shirt on now that he isn’t hot all over and Cas isn’t here to warm him up, but he doesn’t have to wait long before he hears a tentative sounding, “Dean?” come from the opening of the cave.

“All clear, Cas,” Dean says with a grin. “Can you grab my shirt off of the bench on your way by?”

“Are you cold?” Castiel asks as he approaches him. “I should have built up the fire before I left, but I wasn’t thinking -” Then, as he comes into view, he stops mid-step and mid-word. His eyes seem glued to Dean’s chest and Dean realizes that while Cas walks around three quarters naked all the time, this is the most skin of his that Cas has seen. Knowing his stomach is nowhere close to as toned as Castiel’s, he covers it with his arm. He can see Castiel’s nostrils flaring and his wings tittering at the ends, and he clears his throat and raises an eyebrow questioningly. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were dressing.”

“You haven’t had a shirt on since I met you, not a big deal. I am starting to get cold, though,” he says, more to remind him that he’s staring than because he really needs it. Castiel walks over to the nest and hands him his shirt, which Dean gladly sits up to pull over his head. Now feeling more like himself, he checks out Cas for signs of how he’s doing. His feathers are still fluttering, but only a little bit, and while his cheeks are definitely still pink, it’s more like a happy glow than deep embarrassment. “You, uh, feelin’ better now?”

“For the time being,” Castiel answers, avoiding eye contact. “How’s your foot?”

Dean looks down at it, having been more concerned with his dick than his foot until now, and sees the swelling has gone down _a ton._ “Hey, look at that! It looks way better!”

“It really does,” Castiel agrees happily. “I’ll have to rewrap it to make sure it’s still tight enough for you.”

“That sounds awesome. Do you mind if you take me out so I can pee again first, though?”

“Not at all. Can you get up?”

“Can I use the nest for leverage?” he checks.

“It should be fine, yes.”

So, he gets up to one knee, then using the side of the nest, manages to stand without putting any weight on his left foot. “Getting good at this,” he tells Cas. Cas takes another step forward as his wings come around him, and he lifts Dean under the armpits like a child, up out of the nest to place him on the floor. “Good morning to you, too,” he grins breathlessly.

Castiel closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, his wings rustling restlessly behind him. “Can I hug you?”

Dean lets out a short huff of laughter. “Missed me already, huh?” Dean teases, but he opens his arms in agreement. He isn’t surprised in the least when Castiel’s face goes right to his neck as his arms slide around his middle and his warm hands drift up his back. Castiel rubs against his face from chin to ear, humming happily as his wings finally settle. Dean feels warmth inside as well as surrounding him, and knows it’s because he’s pleased that something about him apparently calms the angel down. “Better?”

“Much,” Castiel replies, his face still in his neck.

“Good, ‘cause I really gotta pee.”

“My apologies, Dean,” Castiel says, withdrawing enough to lift him into his arms in a bridal carry as usual. He hurries outside, glancing around nervously as he finds Dean a tree. His voice is low and quiet and his wings are expanded more than usual when he says, “More angels will be around this time of day than they were last night. Please hurry.”

“Less than a minute,” Dean promises.

Castiel reaches out and lays his hand on his shoulder briefly, rubbing his palm there briefly but firmly before sliding it back off. “Be careful.”

“I’m gonna pee on you instead of the tree if you don’t go,” Dean tells him, and Castiel rolls his eyes before he flies away, making Dean laugh as he unzips and takes care of business. He’s still zipping back up when he hears a _whoosh_ and Castiel is there at his side with his wings open wide. “Dude, I haven’t even done up my button yet.”

“I didn’t go far and could hear that you were finished.”

“Creeper,” Dean complains lightly.

“I’m protecting you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean waves off. “All aboard the Castiel Express.”

Castiel squints his eyes in confusion, but lifts him and carries him back into the cave and onto the bench. “More tea for your foot?” Castiel asks once they’re inside, and Dean nods his okay. Might as well stock up on any and all pain management he can before he has to walk home. Castiel goes to boil some water and then comes back to rewrap his foot. “This looks much better,” he says, smiling up at him. His fingers are warm, and already, the warmth is something familiar to him and even comforting because he knows it’s coming from Cas. “The swelling has gone down by at least half, though the bruising looks worse.”

“Yeah, when it comes to bruises, they usually get worse before they get better.”

“Re-wrap it the same way?” Castiel checks.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

Dean watches while Castiel’s graceful fingers wind the bandage around and around before they secure the pins in place. By the time he’s done, he takes the boiling water off of the fire and adds the tea bag, then comes back to sit next to Dean. “Do you like eggs?”

Dean frowns. “What kind of eggs?”

“These are quail eggs, so still similar to chicken, but smaller.”

“I’ll give ‘em a shot, but I still have my granola bars. I don’t want to eat all your food when I know you can’t just go buy more.”

“It’s quite nice to have somebody else to feed,” Castiel says, like he’s admitting something secret. “Honestly, it would please me if you’d allow me to cook for you again.”

“Only if you promise I get to blow your mind with waffles when you come visit me,” Dean barters.

Castiel’s wings fluff up and he nods, smiling softly as he places Dean’s foot up on the bench. He reaches out to push his fingers through Dean’s hair before he ducks his head and scurries away with his wings still soft and fluffy looking. Dean absentmindedly fixes his hair and wonders if he should ask Cas about how he keeps touching him before he leaves his side today, but figures it’ll just embarrass him. Besides, he’s taking off shortly, so it won’t matter soon anyway.

Cas explains he’s going to boil the eggs, so once his tea is ready, he brings Dean a mug before he refills the pot and puts a bunch of small, spotted eggs inside.

Because they’re so small, it doesn’t take long for them to cook, and he and Cas are soon eating the eggs as fast as they can peel them. They seem to be a little bit more yolky than the grocery store chicken eggs he’s used to, and they’re a little bland without the salt and pepper he usually adds, but they’re better than granola bars, and he makes sure to compliment Cas often since he knows how much he likes it.

Once he’s had his fill, he leans back against Castiel’s wing behind him with a hand on his stomach. “I’m stuffed. That was great, Cas.”

Castiel’s wings are puffed up predictably and he has a proud smile on his face when he replies, “I’m glad you enjoyed them.”

“Once I digest, I guess I better start making the walk back.” He feels a sense of sadness overcoming him when he thinks about leaving Cas here alone again, but it’s not as if he can stay forever.

Castiel’s wing pulls him closer until he’s tucked up against his side. He chuckles softly but snuggles in, smiling when Cas wraps his arm around him, too. “I understand you can’t stay, but I admit I’m feeling precisely the same way as my wings right now. I don’t want you to go.”

“I know,” Dean says quietly. “But this ain’t goodbye forever. I’m gonna come back.”

“I know you say that, but I hope you know I’ll understand completely if you get back to your life with the rest of the humans you know and decide making the trip back isn’t worth it.”

“Well stop being so understanding, ‘cause it’s not gonna happen. Unless you’re just trying to tell me nicely that you want me to stay away,” he says, the thought only occurring to him now.

“No! I don’t want you to stay away. I don’t want you to go at all,” he repeats. “I’ve had more fun being with you in the last day than I can remember ever having.”

On one hand, he’s happy Cas had a good time, but it’s also kinda sad considering they didn’t really do much. He must be as lonely as he said. Even so, Dean can’t deny he enjoyed the company, too. Cas isn’t quite like he expected him to be when he first met him, that’s for sure.

“I haven’t laughed like I laughed with you in months, either. Other than my foot and the few times I freaked out, it was cool to hang out with you. I’m definitely coming back.”

“Good,” Castiel says simply. “As much as I don’t want to leave your side, I suppose you still need me to find a stick to help you walk?”

“Yeah, still can’t put pressure on my foot.”

“I’ll be right back then,” Castiel says, brushing the back of his hand along his neck before he flies away. Dean takes the opportunity to repack his bag so the weight will be distributed evenly on his back. He finds his phone he stuck in there before bed last night and takes a couple of pictures of the cave. He hops along the cave, using the wall for balance to take a picture of Castiel’s nest, the fire pit, and then the bench. When Cas comes back, Dean aims his phone in his direction and grins when he gets a photo of Cas with that pinched look on his face.

“What is that?” Castiel asks him.

“Cell phone. Uh, communication device, day planner, memory storage, and camera all in one,” Dean tries to explain.

“I don’t know what most of that means, but it’s some kind of electronic device?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Look, I’ll show you some pictures.”

Cas takes a seat beside him and he shows him the pictures he took, scrolling through some of Sam, his car, and one of him and Jo on the job. “Wait,” Castiel says when he gets to that one. “Why are you both wearing the same clothes?”

“That’s my uniform,” Dean says. “I wear it when I’m working so everybody knows I’m a police officer.”

“You look extremely handsome in it.”

Dean smirks. “You wouldn’t believe how many people have a uniform kink.”

“Kink?”

“Yeah, get turned on by somebody wearing a uniform.”

“Hm,” Castiel says, his voice low and thoughtful sounding. “I can understand why. It’s very flattering.”

Dean snorts with laughter and nudges him playfully, “Flirting with me, Cas?”

Cas goes a delightful pink color at the same time his feathers start wiggling like crazy, so Dean takes pity on him and offers a distraction by scrolling through more photos. Neither of them say anything until he gets to some photos he took of the cabin.

“Is this where you live?” Castiel asks him.

“For now, yeah.” As they scroll through he realizes there aren’t any photos of the inside. “I’ll take pictures of what it looks like inside so I can show you when I come back.” He stops on a picture he took from the deck. “This is where I drink my coffee every morning. I bundle up in blankets and bring my coffee outside to drink on the deck, looking up at the mountains and over the lake.”

“Do you have any pictures taken from this wooden walkway?” Castiel asks, pointing at the dock.

“It’s a dock, and yeah, I think so,” Dean says, scrolling until he finds one. “Like this?”

“Yes,” Castiel says, leaning over his phone and looking at it more closely. “Can you make this bigger?” he asks, pointing at the mountains in the background. Dean spreads his fingers on the screen and he sees in his peripheral vision when Castiel’s smile grows. “I know where this is,” he remarks, sounding almost relieved by the knowledge.

“How?”

“There’s several families of ducks in that area, and plenty of fish. I forage in that lake for food regularly.”

“Seriously?”

Castiel nods happily and his wings seem to relax some. “If I knew that’s where you lived, I could have flown you home last night.”

“Yeah, thanks but no thanks. I don’t fly, remember? But now you can come visit, right?”

“I... I could stop by occasionally. How long are you going to live there?”

“Honestly have no idea. I still got about nine months left of paid leave, but I dunno if I can stay through the winter or if I’ll freeze.”

“I won’t wait too long before I come, then,” Castiel says seriously.

“That sounds good to me,” he smiles. “Listen, before I go, can I take a picture of you so I know this wasn’t all a crazy dream? Kinda want one of your wings, too.”

“You want a picture of my wings?”

“Yeah,” Dean says with a shrug. “Gonna miss the fluffy blanket around me all the time when I get back.”

Castiel pauses, chewing on his bottom lip for a few seconds before he responds in a very serious tone of voice. “You understand what kind of problems would arise for me and the rest of the garrison if you showed anybody these photos, right?”

“I won’t show anybody. I know all too well what kinds of things humans are capable of, and the last thing I want is for you to be in any kind of danger.”

“Then, yes, you may take my picture.”

“Awesome. Can you stand up so I can try to get all of you?”

Castiel gets to his feet and stands in front of Dean, spreading his wings wide and proud. “You’re gonna have to back up, your wings are fucking huge.”

That only makes them fluff up proudly and Dean’s grinning like an idiot when he gets a picture of the fluffy wings. “Any chance you can smile for me? I like the serious expression, don’t get me wrong, but you’re all kinds of adorable when you smile for real.”

Just like he was hoping, a smile flashes on Castiel’s face before he can stop it. “Dean,” he sighs when Dean cackles happily.

“Don’t pretend you’re not gonna miss my smart ass.”

“Your ass is many things, but I wouldn’t have called it smart,” Castiel tosses back.

“That’s only ‘cause you don’t know what I can do with it,” Dean says with a wink, causing Castiel’s face to heat up.

“It hardly seems fair that you get my picture to bring home with you but I can’t have one of you,” Castiel complains when he comes back to sit beside him.

“I’ll hook you up next time we see each other, okay?” Dean promises. “Hey, can I get one picture of the two of us?”

“Who will take the picture?” Castiel asks.

“Me. Watch.” Dean turns the camera to selfie mode and holds it up so Cas can see. He scooches over and waits for Cas to wrap his arm around him, then leans his head over so their temples are touching. Cas still has a faint blush on his cheeks, and Dean doesn’t miss the way he lifts his wing so it’s visible in the picture. Dean smiles for the camera, and as soon as Castiel sees his smile on the screen, he smiles in return, which is when Dean snaps the photo.

“You smell very happy,” Castiel comments, dropping his nose to the crook of his neck. Dean snaps another picture, capturing Castiel’s eyes closed and a look of pure contentedness on his face.

“You’re one to talk. Look at you,” Dean says, pointing to the picture on his phone.

Castiel’s wings flare for a split second before they cocoon Dean tighter than ever and Castiel makes a happy sounding hum in his throat, causing Dean to laugh with amusement as happiness spreads through him, too. “Alright, love bird, I gotta get going. Let’s see that stick you picked out for me.”

After a muttered, “I’m not a bird, Dean,” Castiel retrieves the stick. It’s about four feet tall and thick enough to bear his weight with a wide fork at the top. “This part goes under your arm, though you’ll have to be careful not to irritate the skin.”

Dean thinks about what he could wrap it with, and only comes up with his fleece. “What’s the weather like out there?”

“Sunny,” Castiel answers.

“If it’s warm enough, maybe I can wrap my fleece around it so it doesn’t hurt too much when I’m walking.”

“I was thinking that with your permission, I would like to carry you part of the way to ease your journey,” Castiel offers. “It will also help me to feel less worried about the other angels catching your scent and possibly reacting territorially.”

“You can come with me, but you don’t have to carry me, Cas,” Dean tells him. “It’ll take a while, but I’m sure I can handle it.”

“Please, Dean,” Castiel begs him. “I feel like I need to do this. Like it’s my duty to ensure you get back home safely, and since I can’t follow you all the way to your car, this is the most I can do.”

“I don’t know why you feel responsible for me.”

“If I hadn’t scared you out of the cave in the first place -”

“Nuh uh,” Dean interrupts him. “You didn’t throw me in the air and fuck up my foot.”

“I understand that part isn’t my fault,” he says darkly. “But I still need to do this.”

Dean sighs in exasperation but can’t look away from Castiel’s earnest expression. “You’re seriously just gonna carry me through the mountain?”

“I would fly you if you’d let me,” Castiel says, a question in his voice.

“Hard pass.”

“Then yes, I will carry you.”

“And my bag and my crutch?”

Castiel nods. “Yes.”

He’s out of reasons not to say yes, so he answers, “Alright, let’s go then.”

It takes some work, but they get Dean’s bag over one of Castiel’s shoulders, Dean holds the stick in his hands, and Castiel lifts him into his arms to begin their trek. Without even telling him where to go, Castiel starts making his way down the mountain the exact same way Dean came up.

“Can you still smell me from when I came up here yesterday?” Dean asks.

“No, but there’s really only one way down for humans,” Castiel explains, making Dean laugh a little. Cas doesn’t break a sweat, he doesn’t breathe hard, and even though Dean had been huffing and puffing by the time he got to the rest stop yesterday that Castiel carries him past now, Cas keeps walking like he isn’t carrying a full-grown man in his arms.

Finally, after what has to be more than an hour of being nestled comfortably in Castiel's arms, Cas comes to a stop. “This is as far as I can safely take you,” Castiel tells him, though he still doesn’t put him down. “I’ve actually come further than I meant to, but the chance of being spotted only increases the further down I get and as much as I’d like to escort you all the way to your car, I can’t, Dean. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you brought me most of the way and saved me half a day’s hobble, Cas, don’t apologize. You’re awesome.” When he still doesn’t put him down, Dean says, “You know you gotta put me back on the ground so I can walk the rest of the way, right?”

“You don’t understand.” Castiel sighs heavily as his fingertips tighten on Dean’s body. “My instincts are screaming at me not to put you in any possible danger.”

“I’m not in danger walking back to my car,” Dean says patiently.

“You’re injured, you have absolutely no way to defend yourself and you can’t even _run away_ if you need to,” Castiel growls at him, his wings coming to cradle him as if he can save Dean from all of that if he just holds him tightly enough.

“I’m a police officer. I’ve got a knife, it’s broad daylight, and I’m gonna stick to the paths. I don’t have that far left to go, either, thanks to you.”

“Logic doesn’t help, Dean,” Castiel says darkly.

“Okay - what will help?”

‘“Let me - let me -” Dean’s lowered down onto his one foot, his hand grabbing at Castiel’s bicep to steady himself before he gets the crutch in place. Then Castiel’s hand brushes through his hair again and he gently urges Dean’s head to the side, exposing his neck. “Please, can I?”

“You wanna rub your face on my neck again?” Dean asks, bewildered.

“Please.”

“Whatever floats your boat, man,” Dean allows.

It’s slower this time, like Cas is cherishing every moment. Castiel’s left cheek rubs along his jaw from his chin all the way to his ear and back, then he does the other side with his right cheek, too. He inhales his scent the entire time, dragging in deep, greedy breaths as he goes. His feathers brush up and down Dean’s back, over the back of his neck, and even down the backs of legs.

Though he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing or why he’s doing it (and he’s sure there’s a reason), he doesn’t mind. As weird as it is, he's sorta starting to like it a little. When Cas pulls away, his eyes are dark and his cheeks are red. He entertains the idea of rubbing his face on Castiel’s neck in return for a split second before he dismisses the idea. He doesn’t even know what it means, after all. So instead, he lifts his hand to brush his knuckles across his jaw back to his ear. Castiel’s eyelids flutter closed as he does it, and once his hand rests on the back of his neck with his thumb right behind his jaw, Castiel covers his hand with his and holds it place for a span of several seconds before he exhales and opens his eyes.

“Better?” Dean asks, his voice quiet so not to startle him out of the heavy moment that’s somehow settled over the two of them.

“Worse in some ways, but yes, a little bit better as well. Thank you for indulging me.”

“Least I could do after everything you did for me.”

“In that case, I have one other request,” Castiel says with a small, sideways smile. “Remember how you said you could put something on the dock so I knew it was safe to come visit? Can you - can you put something on it when you get home so I know you’ve arrived safely?”

“Like what?” Dean asks.

“I’m not sure. I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Dean had mentioned a scarf earlier, but he doesn’t even have one at the cabin, and there aren’t trees at the shoreline. “There’s some chairs on the dock. So how about I put this sweater over one of them? Like a cover. Shouldn’t blow away in the wind that way, and you should be able to see it from the air.”

Castiel nods eagerly. “Yes, that would work perfectly. Especially if it’s this sweater since it smells like you and I’ll know it wasn’t somebody else putting it there to throw me off.”

Dean lets out a shallow sound of amusement at where his mind went. Like somebody’s going to abduct him and try to throw Cas off the scent.

“Sounds like a plan, Cas. Listen, thanks again for everything. I had a blast.”

“Thank _you_ for your kindness and your company. I enjoyed having you,” Castiel says earnestly.

“Don’t wait too long ‘til you come visit. You never know if I’ll take a header on the hill at home and lose my walking stick, getting stranded there alone for hours,” Dean says, completely joking, but regretting the words as soon as he sees a flash of panic on Castiel’s face. “Chill, I was _joking.”_

“That’s not funny,” Castiel says seriously. “But it's effective,” he relents, getting a grin from Dean. “I will stop by soon. Either early morning or late at night, since that’s when we fly to avoid being seen.”

“Just come on in and wake me up, then. Literally anytime, okay? I don’t sleep for shit anyway.” Castiel nods his agreement. “Alright, one more hug before I go,” Dean says, stepping forward to wrap his arms around his neck tightly. He’s enfolded in both Castiel’s arms and his wings for a few brief seconds, then pats him on the back and pulls off his fleece to wrap it around the fork of the stick.

He doesn’t say anything about the way Castiel’s wings bow to him, even though Castiel’s face is red again when he passes Dean’s bag to him. He slides it into place over his shoulders and says, “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, Dean. Please be careful.”

“I will. And you, too. Don’t take any shit from the dicks with wings. Remember, you’re badass.”

His lips quirk into a smile. “I will be watching you from higher up for as long as I can keep you in my line of sight.”

“Sounds good. See you soon, buddy,” Dean says as he starts to hobble away.

He gets about six steps before he hears Cas call his name from behind him. He turns to see Cas standing still with his wings reaching out for him. “I’ll miss you,” he says shyly, his face still visibly pink from where Dean stands.

He smiles genuinely, thinking about how freaking adorable the angel is and amused with himself at how quickly the feathered weirdo wormed his way into his heart. He finds he’s entirely truthful when he says, “Same, Cas. Same,” before he keeps hobbling away.

It’s harder than he thought it would be, both walking away from Cas and actually walking at all. He’s barely been walking for ten minutes when his armpit starts feeling raw and sore, and by the time he’s been walking for an hour, he’s stopped to check if it’s actually bleeding (thankfully, it’s not). He’s banged his foot accidentally a couple of times since the ground is uneven, so it’s throbbing all over again, causing him to sweat through his Henley with a combination of pain and exertion. He stops for his first break, just leaning back against a boulder, afraid that if he sits down he won’t find the strength to get himself back up. He drinks some water, eats a granola bar, and once he feels like his lungs aren’t burning anymore, he pushes himself back up to his foot and prepares to keep walking.

He hears a distant flapping from up above him and cranes his neck, looking for the source of the sound. All he can see is black wings, and a couple of little downy feathers drifting down through the air towards him. He waits for them to float down to him, cursing when two of the three land higher up on the mountain than where he can reach, but the third one lands only a few steps from him.

He walks over to pick it up, smiling at the softness of it once it’s between his fingers, and glances up to see if he can still see Cas up there. He can’t, so with a shrug, he tucks the feather into his pocket and keeps walking. By the time he sees his car, he feels like weeping with relief.

When he reaches it, he almost does.

After opening the car door to throw his shit in the back seat, he climbs inside to sit on the first truly comfortable surface he’s plunked his ass on for more than a whole day, suddenly appreciating his leather interior on a whole new level.

He turns it on to warm up, sees the dash tell him it’s just after one in the afternoon, then looks up at the mountain. He can’t be sure, but he thinks he can see Cas way up - much higher than where the cave is - perched on the edge of a cliff. He actually looks like a bird from here, so for all he knows it might be one, but he rolls down the window and lifts his arm in a wave anyway. When he sees the wings spread, he knows it’s him, and he beeps the horn as a final goodbye as he drives away. He can see Cas still sitting in place in the rear view mirror before he pulls off of the dirt road and loses sight of him.

He feels an ache inside, a physical reminder that there’s nobody waiting for him back at the cabin the way Cas was waiting for him in the mountains, but reminds himself he chose to live that way for a reason. He’s better off secluded from everything and everybody while he gets his shit together.

It’s only a short drive until he’s pulling his Baby carefully through the bumpy driveway and parking her outside the cabin. He leaves his bag, but grabs his stick and walks inside to start a fire so he doesn’t freeze his ass off. He finds an old towel and some duct tape and fixes up his crutch, then pulls on a hoodie and ends up sliding down the steep hill to the dock on his ass. He puts the fleece over the most visible chair with a smile, then slowly and painfully makes his way back up to the cabin.

The first thing he wants to do is shower off the layer of grime and dirt that’s all over his body, but he knows he’s gonna struggle staying upright in the shower. So he does something he hasn’t done in years and draws himself a hot bath. He leaves his left foot out of the water so he doesn’t have to try to bend himself into a pretzel to rewrap it, and just relaxes in the warmth of the hot water and steam that’s filling the room for a little while.

Once he starts to feel sleepy, he sits himself up and washes his hair and body, wincing at the sting of his body wash on his raw skin under his left arm. He’s gonna have to watch that, he thinks to himself. Once he clamors his way out of the tub, he towels off and slips into sweatpants, a waffle knit long-sleeve shirt, a hoodie, and a pair of thick socks. He grabs himself a bag of Tostitos, a beer and salsa out of the fridge, and plops his ass on the couch, dreaming about not moving a muscle for the next several hours. Then he thinks about how he should probably ice his ankle, and knowing that he has to get up to put a tape in the VCR anyway, he does that before _really_ settling in.

A few hours later, he gets up for a bathroom break and another beer, and puts in a second tape. His hunger not entirely satisfied, he makes himself a ham and cheese sandwich with a couple of pickles on the side, and though it’s not even eight o’clock yet, he heads into his bedroom. He pulls out his battered copy of Slaughterhouse Five and reads until he’s tired enough that he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.

He goes to plug in his phone for bed, and that’s when he remembers the little feather he scooped from Cas. It’s with a smile on his face that he gets up to fish it out of his jeans pocket and lays back in bed. He strokes it from base to tip, remembering exactly how good it felt to be wrapped up in those feathers last night.

This feather’s fluffier than most. He already noticed that the smaller they are the softer they are, so it’s not surprising that this feather (that’s only the size of his pinky finger) is super soft. Some of Castiel’s feathers are the entire length of his arm, he remembers fondly. Too bad he didn’t drop one of those ones, because not only are those impressive as hell, this tiny one’s going to be easy to lose.

With that thought in mind, he puts it gently down on his night stand, but as soon as he moves the blanket to cover himself up more, it floats in the air and drifts onto the floor. Already annoyed with that, he tucks it in the drawer instead and flicks off his bedside lamp. He tosses and turns for some time, which is surprising considering how tired he is, and the last time he checks the time before he falls asleep it’s just after ten o’clock.

He sleeps worse that night than he has in weeks. He wakes three different times with nightmares, two about the shooting, and one where that Metatron guy was pinning Cas down and trying to rip his feathers out because they’re black. Apparently, his subconscious is worried about Cas back there in that cave, too.

When his third nightmare wakes him up at eight, he gives in and gets up for the day. He didn’t really think Cas would come right away but a part of him had been hoping, so when he walks out into his living room and finds himself alone, he’s disappointed. He makes himself his coffee, builds up the fire while it brews, then wraps himself in his blanket and walks out to drink his coffee outside. He should have taken the time with Cas to have him show him some of the best sights from up in the mountains. He probably would’ve known some good ones.

That train of thought has him starting to make a mental list of the kinds of things he wants to show Cas. Dude’s gotta try beer and whisky, and burgers and fries, and tacos, steak, bacon and pie. He’s gonna have the feathery weirdo working for those chiseled abs of his, he thinks evilly. That reminds him he’s gotta send a picture down to the general store to be printed. If Cas shows and he doesn’t have one, he might be disappointed, and he’s right - it’s only fair that he has one of Dean since Dean has some of him.

Once he’s finished his coffee, he makes himself a bowl of cereal and sends off the pictures for 24 hour printing while he eats it. He also looks online for a set of crutches and has them shipped to the post office (which is inside the general store) overnight. Since he knows that means he’s gonna be heading into town tomorrow, he makes a list of the things he doesn’t have here that he wants Cas to try.

Even with these few mundane tasks done, without the use of his leg, his day drags by. He can’t really work outside the way he usually does, and he can’t hike the trails because his armpit is still pretty raw. He spends the day going back and forth between reading, watching TV, cooking, eating, and sitting out on the deck. It’s late afternoon when he scoots down to the dock to make sure his sweater is still securely on the chair where he left it.

It looks okay when he gets there, but he approaches it to pull it down just a bit more so it won’t fly away, and that’s when he sees something black sticking out of the collar. A feather, he realizes. He pulls it out where it had been tucked inside and is surprised to see a small bouquet of dandelions wrapped together in some kind of grass beneath it. Nobody’s ever given him flowers before. He smiles, both at the gesture and because he knows Cas came to check on him. Of course, that kinda raises the question of why he flew over here and left flowers but didn’t come in to say hi. Even though the thought sends another wave of disappointment through him, he figures Cas must have had a reason. And it was nice of him to bring him flowers and leave the feather and to let him know he’s okay, too.

He’s been thinking a lot about how Cas said he sits alone in the cave and wonders why he even bothers to fight through the day when he’s so lonely, and every time he thinks about it he gets a pit in his stomach that he hasn’t been able to shake. He doesn’t want anybody to feel like that, least of all Cas, and he hates that he can’t fix it and make the other angels see what a good guy Cas is, even if his wings are black.

He strokes the feather from bottom to tip, thinking about how Cas had been so generous with sharing his food, his space, and basically his life with Dean (even though it had only been for a day). He’d be a good friend to anybody, and any angel would be lucky to have him as a mate. He was attentive, a really good listener, and not at all judgmental when Dean had freaked out with his panic attacks. He knows without a sliver of doubt that Cas would be a loving and gentle partner if somebody would just give the dude a chance.

Hell, if he was human, Dean’s pretty sure he’d be trying to snatch him up for as long as he could manage to keep him. It’s not everyday you find a guy who looks like he does and isn’t a total douche.

He hopes Cas is okay alone again now that he’s gone. He himself has been feeling a lot less pleased with the solitude he was enjoying so much before he spent the day with Cas. It feels a lot more like loneliness now than it did before, but he’s mostly chalked that up to boredom since he can’t do much on his foot.

He stuffs the feather in his kangaroo pocket and makes his way slowly back up the hill and into the cabin. Once he’s inside, he puts the flowers in a water glass and has a little chick flick moment when he buries his nose in them to take a whiff. It’s probably all in his head, but he thinks he can smell a faint trace of Castiel’s signature wood smell, so he breathes it in once more. He gets himself comfortable on the couch again and pulls out the feather Cas left and takes a closer look at it. It’s pretty big. Including the stem of the feather, it goes from his elbow to his fingertips, and at its widest part at the top, it’s about three inches wide. Some of Cas’s feathers are way bigger than this one, but this is definitely the biggest feather he’s ever had in his hands. He wonders if it fell out on its own or if Cas pulled it out to leave it for him (he hopes not), then wonders if it hurts when they come out.

He should see what he can find out about feathers, now that he thinks about it. He’s hoping Cas will eventually let him fix the feathers that he can’t reach, and it would probably be helpful if he knew at least something about what he was doing. It can’t be that hard to look up. Obviously he’s not going to be able to find anything out about angel feathers, but he can Google other big birds (he smiles when he thinks of Cas saying, _“I’m not a bird, Dean.”)_ and find out a thing or two. There can’t be that many differences; feathers are feathers.

He finds out pretty damn quick that there’s a hell of a lot to learn, though. There are categories of feathers (primary feathers, flight feathers, alula feathers, just to name a few) and parts of each one, like the hollow stem thing that’s actually called a shaft (heh heh), the rest of that stem is called a rachis, and the feathery part on each side of the rachis is called a vane.

He stumbles upon pages and pages about molting, learning how really large birds usually molt partially over a couple of years since it takes them longer to grow back new feathers. As soon as one falls out, another one will start growing, which makes him feel a little bit better about the feather Cas left him. He also reads a lot about preening and preening oil. Apparently, angels aren’t the only feathered creatures who rely on a mate to help with grooming. One article he read explained how some birds will have bald patches where they can’t reach their feathers if another bird doesn’t help, and that makes Dean more determined than ever to convince Cas into letting him help him so he doesn’t end up going bald. If the angels make fun of him for black wings, he can only imagine the shit he’d get for a bald patch. The very idea of Cas’s feathers going unattended for so long his wings could potentially start to go bald in places gives him a horrible feeling in his stomach.

That ain’t gonna happen on his watch.

Getting back to his research, he spends an hour watching bird mating dance videos, which are complicated but sometimes hilarious. He ends up imagining Castiel hopping around like some of the crazier birds, and once he can see it so clearly in his head he can’t stop laughing when he tries to keep watching. So that’s the end of that. He skims over the parts about courting rituals when it says they’re different for different species, and his mind convinces him he’s itchy all over when he reads about parasites and insects living in bird wings. _That_ he has to ask Cas about, because he cannot sleep with those wings wrapped around him again if they’re covered in bugs.

The day turns to night rather quickly once he’s immersed in the bird stuff, and by the time he’s ready for bed, his head feels stuffed full with all the new information he learned today. He has a list of questions he wants to ask Cas now that he’s done some research, and he thinks over them when he pulls out Cas’s feathers and strokes them until he feels sleepy. He puts them both back in his night stand, but for some reason, running his fingers along the big one is calming, so he ends up digging it back out and petting it until he falls asleep.

It’s not surprising that he dreams of birds and of Cas that night. He has a nightmare about shooting Cas with a hunter’s rifle instead of his Glock, and the usual nightmare about shooting the kid. Each time he wakes, he reaches for the feather and strokes it until he falls asleep again, quickly discovering he feels much less lonely with a piece of Cas beside him.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day passes uneventfully, other than his trip into town. Cas either didn’t check in or didn’t leave anything for him this time, because all he finds down at the dock that morning is a random stone on the arm of the chair. He has no idea how it got there, but he has no reason to believe Cas would leave him a rock, either. There’s nothing extraordinary about it. It’s jagged on the bottom but round on top, sorta smooth, and a typical grey color. 

None of that explains why he slips it into his pocket or why it finds a home in his night stand with the first small feather (which he now knows is a down feather). 

While in town that afternoon, he gets a load of laundry done at the laundromat, fills the Impala with way more food than he’s bought in the past, finally gets his crutches, and buys himself a pizza to bring home. Cold pizza for lunch tomorrow already sounds damn good to him.

Once he gets home, his dinner beer goes down real good with that pizza, and since he has nothing else going on, he indulges himself and drinks until he has a buzz. He realizes once he gets up to use the bathroom that drinking while only having the use of one foot was pretty dumb, but it’s too late now. Since he’s already feeling it, he has a couple more before he’s sleepy enough for bed, and manages to make it back to his room sometime after eleven all in one piece. 

He changes into plaid pajama pants and a long-sleeve t-shirt, grabs the big feather from his nightstand, and falls asleep almost instantly, thanks to the beer. 

His dreams that night are understandably hazy, but he still wakes up covered in sweat with his heart jackhammering in his chest and a shout echoing through the room. The world spins when he opens his eyes, so he keeps them closed while he tries to count his way through taking careful breaths as usual. It’s his third deep breath that brings in the scent of outside and wood chips, and he’s confused for half a second before he opens his eyes to see Castiel in his bedroom.

He’s pinned himself against the wall, his wings already reaching towards Dean and falling over his bed, and though Cas looks slightly more disheveled than he remembers, Dean smiles wide at the sight of him. 

“Hey buddy.” Already feeling much better just knowing he’s not alone anymore, he lets out a small, excited laugh at Castiel’s answering smile. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s the middle of the night. I know you said to wake you up, but I could tell you were having a nightmare and I didn’t want to overwhelm you with my wings like I did last time.”

“Good call,” Dean says, pretty sure he would’ve been more confused than ever thanks to the beer. “I gotta take a leak before I go back to bed.”

He grabs his crutches and makes his way to the bathroom, confused and a little disappointed when Cas doesn’t give him a hug or a wing pat hello or anything at all when he walks past him. Since he’s in the bathroom and he didn’t do it before he fell asleep, he brushes his teeth too, and then goes back to his room. He crawls into bed, throws the blankets off the other side of the bed and says, “You comin’ in to sleep for a bit or what?”

Castiel gasps loudly, and Dean’s trying to figure out what the hell is going on when Castiel finally clues him in. “You got my feather?”

Dean feels embarrassment creep in as he drops his gaze to search the bed, finding the feather on the middle of the other side of the mattress and moving it into the nightstand. “Sure did. Pretty cool,” he says, faking an airy response. 

“And you kept it in your nest?” he asks quietly.

“In my bed,” Dean corrects automatically, dragging his hand down his face to try to hide how embarrassing this is. “I know it’s weird, but it’s soft and it was comforting,” he shrugs.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Castiel says. “I’m happy it’s comforted you when I couldn’t.” Before Dean can think of something to say to that he continues, “Are you sure you want me to sleep in your bed with you?” Castiel asks, sounding nervous now.

“Yeah. You shared your bed with me. Just returning the favor.”

“My wings are quite... eager,” Castiel says, stating the obvious considering they’ve been reaching for him this whole time. 

“Yeah, I’m gettin’ that,” Dean smiles. 

“Can we sleep like we did in my nest?” 

Dean sits up again and waits for Cas to get in next to him. “Your nest pillow is extremely soft. And so high up off the ground,” Castiel comments as he situates his wing where Dean was laying. Dean lies back down on it and they both make sounds of pleasure when Castiel’s wing pulls him in and both wings surround him entirely, the tips running over his skin and fluttering happily.

He waits for Cas to try to put his arm around him, but he doesn’t. He’s actually stiff as a board beside him, but Dean’s still too tipsy to really focus on  anything other than how Cas is warm and that it feels damn good to be in his wings again.

“You smell different,” Castiel complains, breaking the silence.

“Nice to see you too,” Dean says sarcastically.

“I’m not trying to be rude, but you smell... strange. Wrong. Not like you did before.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. Didn’t see anybody other than the people at the store earlier, and I should be smelling all kinds of happy since you really came.”

He feels it when Castiel’s nose makes its way into his hair. “I suppose you do still smell like you under the surface,” he relents, sniffing again. 

“You always smell good.” Castiel hums, sounding happier than he has so far. “Still nice and warm, too,” Dean elaborates, reveling in the comfort that gives him. Then, with the beer stealing his filter for the time being, he says, “Missed you, y'know.”

“Dean,” Castiel breathes on a satisfied sounding exhale. “I missed you as well.”

Dean announces his skepticism with, “Pfft. Yeah, right. That’s why you’re lyin’ there like a bump on a log, tryin’ your best not to touch me.”

“I didn’t want to make assumptions,” Castiel explains. “I... I  _ want _ to touch you.”   


“Dirty talk needs some work, Cas,” he quips, snickering at his own joke.

“May I put my arm around you?”

“Finally,” Dean grouses, lifting his head to snuggle into the nook of his shoulder and relaxing into his embrace instantly. “Mmhmm. Really frigging missed you,” Dean says again, breathing deeply and pressing himself against Castiel’s warm, firm body as Cas wraps him in his arms. Castiel’s feathers are still rustling, though, and he seems to be having trouble sitting still. His fingers tap against his back, his feathers keep twitching the longer they lie there, and then his foot starts shaking back and forth. Dean would tell him to get the damn ants out of his pants if he wasn’t so warm and his wings so soft. 

“Can I touch your neck? Your hair?” Castiel blurts suddenly. Dean’s too busy soaking up his warmth to respond right away, and Castiel sounds ten times more desperate when he asks a third time only a moment later,  _ “Please,  _ Dean?”

“Yeah. You’ve got free rein when it comes to touching,” he murmurs, his eyes already closed.

“Then can you lift your head up? Just for a moment?” Dean grunts but does as he asks. Just like the first time, there’s a space of time when Cas is looking at him so intently he thinks he’s going to lean in to kiss him. Thankfully, he remembers what’s probably really about to happen before he closes his eyes this time around, and sure enough, Castiel dodges his lips to rub his face along his neck again. He’s more firm this time, pressing harder against his skin than Dean remembers from before as he does one side and then the other. 

For the first time since he’s been here, Cas finally relaxes. “Oh, that’s so much better,” Castiel sighs dreamily, dropping his forehead to Dean’s for another deep breath. Then he cradles Dean’s head back to his chest and his fingers start moving through his hair. “Thank you.” 

“Can I sleep now?” Dean asks on the tail end of a yawn, already putty in his hands. 

“What if we wake up the same way we did last time?” Castiel whispers. 

“Not gonna be a problem,” Dean says, knowing he’s not going to be feeling so well in the morning if the beginning of his headache now is anything to go by. 

“But Dean -”

“Shhh. Sleep,” he mumbles. 

There’s a beat of silence and then he gets a resigned-sounding, “Sweet dreams, Dean.”

For the second time, he falls asleep to Castiel’s fingers in his hair and a sense of belonging deep in his bones. 

He doesn’t have any more nightmares that night, and he wakes up the next morning slowly. He’s aware that he isn’t alone in his bed for a few muddled seconds before he remembers Cas is here, and readjusts the way he lazily had one arm thrown around him to get back into what he already thinks of as his nook. 

“Good morning,” Castiel says quietly, his chin hooking over the top of Dean’s head.

Dean responds with a hum. He doesn’t like to hop out of bed right away first thing in the morning, so he’s content to just stay here for the time being. Castiel doesn’t say anything else, but instead, his hand slides up to the back of Dean’s neck where his thumb brushes lazily across his short hairline. 

“My back’s cold,” Dean mumbles. Castiel’s wing drapes over it, erasing the little bit of space there’d been between them and solving Dean’s problem without him even having to move. “You’re good to keep around.”   


“I’m glad. Your bed is very comfortable.”

“Probably ruined nest pillows for you forever,” Dean comments wryly. 

“You’re probably right,” Castiel answers, sounding amused. “What’s inside of your bed?”

“Buncha springs,” Dean answers absently. “And for the record, the bed at my actual house is a hundred times more comfortable than this old dust bucket.”

“Seems impossible.”

“Memory foam,” Dean says, even knowing Cas won’t know what he’s talking about. “Alright, let’s get my ass outta bed and put a log on the fire so I don’t freeze to death.”

“I can see to the fire,” Castiel offers.

“Sure, thanks.” With that, they untangle themselves and Dean pulls on a hoodie to take the place of Cas’s warmth. He grabs his crutches and makes his way out to the living room with Castiel hot on his heels. Castiel gets the fire going while Dean starts the coffee and then heads to the bathroom. He has the front of his pajama pants pulled down when he hears a rustling sound behind him and turns to see Cas standing in the doorway.

“Uh, personal space there, buddy,” he tells him.

Castiel’s eyebrows draw together as his feathers start to fidget. “I apologize. Is this your private space?”

Dean sighs as he pulls his pants back up for a second. “It’s the bathroom. Where humans go to pee and stuff.”

Castiel’s eyes go wide as saucers as he backs away hastily with the ends of his wings flapping. He can hear his repeated apologies from the other room while he relieves his bladder. After washing his hands, he goes back to the kitchen to pour a mug of coffee. 

“Dean, I’m so sorry. I had no idea humans did that sort of thing inside the house. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”

“I know that now. Just couldn’t figure out what you were doin’ at first. No harm done, so don’t start really flapping on me, okay? Don’t want you to lose any of those pretty feathers.”

When Cas doesn’t say anything, he turns to face him and sees him standing a few feet away in front of the patio doors, watching him nervously. His wings are folded up somewhat so he can fit in the room, and for the first time, he realizes how confining his home is going to be for the angel. 

“Your wings seem bigger than usual in here,” Dean says. “You comfortable?”

Castiel nods, though his feathers are still twitching. “It’s no more confining than the cave, but it does feel that way,” Castiel admits, eyeing the walls. “I’m okay, though.”

“Let me know if you’re not and we can work something out. Do you wanna try a cup of coffee?”

“What is it?” Castiel asks.

“Hot drink with caffeine in it. Caffeine’s a stimulant, so it increases alertness, helps to wake people up faster in the morning, that kinda thing. I drink it black, but some people add milk and sugar to sweeten it.”

“I like sweet,” Castiel says. “I’ll try it if you think I’ll like it.”

“Alright, let me fix it for you.” Dean pours him half a cup and adds a generous amount of both milk and sugar, remembering how he used to drink it at first before he got used to it. He goes to hand it to him, then realizes he can’t carry both cups and use crutches at the same time. “This one’s for you if you wanna grab it. I like to drink it out on the deck if you want to come sit with me.”

“I would like that,” Castiel says. “I’ll take yours as well.”

That gives him a free hand to toss the blanket he brings outside over his shoulder, so he makes his way out the patio door and settles onto his chair as per usual. Cas passes his mug back before he moves another chair over right next to him and takes a seat. Dean can’t feel his feathers through the blanket, but his wing spreads behind him anyway. Dean warms his already cooling hands on his mug and breathes in the delicious scent of coffee while he waits for it to cool.

“Yours should be okay to drink whenever you’re ready since I put milk and sugar in it,” Dean tells him. Castiel nods but doesn’t answer. “You’re kinda quiet today.”

“I still can’t really believe I came here,” he replies. 

Dean can’t get a read on his tone of voice, so he asks, “Having second thoughts or something?”

“Periodically.”

“Huh.” Blowing on his coffee, he bravely lifts it to his lips and takes a tiny sip, scalding his mouth in the process the same way he does every morning. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I was worrying about you a little.”

“You were worrying about  _ me?” _

“Hated thinking about you all alone in that cave with a bunch of angels being dicks to you. You deserve better.”

“Well, I appreciate that, but as you can see, I survived. I worried about you and your ankle quite a bit. How is it?”

“Getting a bit better every day. Was hoping you’d drop in soon so you could rewrap it for me.”

“I’d be happy to,” Castiel says, his wings fluffing up a little bit. He turns away and looks across the lake to the mountains. “You have a beautiful view here for being on the ground.”

“Still not used to it,” he says, taking another tiny sip of his coffee. “You planning to hang out for the day?”

“I wasn’t sure how long you wanted me here, but I can stay however long you want me to.”

“Hey now, don’t go making promises you can’t keep,” Dean teases.

Castiel smiles shyly and adds, “Within reason.”

“There ya go,” Dean laughs, happy to see him smiling again. “So I was thinking I’d cook you a big breakfast. I went out and got some of my favorite stuff to share with you.”

Castiel’s head tilts to the side curiously. “What kinds of stuff?” 

“Food, mostly.”

Castiel’s face heats up even in the cold. “Thank you, Dean, but you don’t have to provide for me. I can provide for us both even at your house. I can make a fire out here and I can cook you fish, or more quail, or I can -”

“It’s my turn to cook, Cas, it’s only fair,” Dean interrupts. “I’ve got some stuff that’s gonna blow your mind.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Very. I know I said I’d do waffles, but I’m gonna have to do that another time. Because bacon.”

“I’m not familiar with that term.”

“It’s pork, from a pig, and I’m tellin’ you, it’s like an orgasm for your mouth.”

Castiel laughs and keeps right on blushing. “That’s a big promise to live up to.”

“Just you wait,” Dean promises. “Then we can have eggs and toast and breakfast potatoes.”

“That all sounds great, but you really don’t have to go to all that trouble just for me.”

“Sure I do, that’s what a good host does. I just need to finish my coffee first. You gonna taste yours, or what?”

Castiel glances at him fleetingly, his eyes crystal clear in the natural light, and raises his mug to his lips for a tentative sip. He lets it roll around on his tongue for a moment before Dean sees his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows. “This is quite good.”

Dean grins, pleased Cas likes the first thing he got him to eat. “Welcome to the addiction,” Dean says, raising his mug in a mock toast before drinking some more. They sit in silence for a little while, both enjoying their coffee, but even though everything seemed fine a minute ago, he feels awkward again in the quiet in a way he never did in the cave. 

He brushes it off, telling himself they just need a bit of time to get reacquainted. 

Once he’s finished his coffee, he wiggles forwards on the seat and uses the arm of the chair to steady himself so he can get back up. He reaches for his crutch, but instead, Castiel gets to his feet and supports him with an arm around his waist. 

“I can help,” he says, pinning Dean with a hopeful look.

Dean nods. “Be nice to give my armpit a break for a bit. It’s still kinda raw from the walk back.”

“I can carry you?”

“Nah, just an arm works for now. But thanks.” Dean has Cas steer him towards the kitchen, where he can use the counter to help hold him up. He gathers what he needs from the fridge and starts cooking. Cas seems nervous again, so after he has the bacon simmering, the potatoes cooked, and the scrambled eggs warming and he still doesn’t relax any, he asks him about it. “You seem kinda freaked out. Is everything okay?”

Castiel avoids his gaze and admits, “I’m feeling quite out of sorts being here. I don’t know what anything is, what you’re doing, or how you’re even cooking without fire. I feel like my home and how I live is woefully inadequate compared to all of this.”

Dean's heart sinks. “What? Come on, Cas. That ain’t true.”

“It is true,” he argues, talking uncharacteristically fast. “I thought I know what it felt like to be an outsider, but I’ve never felt so uninformed in my life.”

“Just hang on a second." He takes a moment to align his thoughts, totally thrown off by Cas reacting to the cabin this way. He didn't expect that at all, and he probably should have. It must be a real culture shock for him. "First of all, my way isn’t better than your way, it’s just different. You manage to live just fine without all this stuff, and that’s honestly pretty cool. And when it comes to being uninformed - there’s a way to fix that, you know.” When Castiel’s eyebrows pinch together, Dean tilts his head to the side playfully. “Ask questions, buddy. I know I asked a billion when I was with you, remember? That’s how I figured out how you do stuff.”

“Then I have to ask how you’re cooking that food,” Castiel bursts out with, like he’s been dying to know. 

“Electricity,” Dean answers. 

“The same way your lights work,” Castiel supplies. “Gabriel explained about power plants and that kind of thing. I didn’t realize you cook with it. That makes sense. What’s the liquid in the bottom of the flat pot?”

“It’s called a pan, or a frying pan since we fry stuff in it, usually with oil or butter. This is oil for the potatoes. Once it gets hot, it makes stuff crispy.”

“The potatoes will be crispy?” Castiel repeats skeptically. “That’s different. Where did you get the pig for bacon?”

“Came from a factory somewhere, probably. They pre-package different cuts of different meats so you can just buy the kind you want since most people don’t have space to store all the meat from an entire pig. Bacon is usually a breakfast food, but people use it as a topping on a lot of stuff too.”

“It smells delicious,” Castiel comments. “I’ve never seen eggs cooked that way either.”

“Probably be hard to do in a pot. I should get you a pan for the cave.”

“That would be welcome. It would be nice to have a different way to cook the same foods.”

“Next time I go into town, consider it done. Can you open that cupboard right there and pull down two plates for me?” Dean asks, pointing to what he needs. Castiel retrieves them for him and Dean starts plating their food. Everything’s set out perfectly, Cas seems to have relaxed a little bit, and he’s just waiting for the toast when it finishes with its signature  _ pop. _

Castiel jumps about a foot into the air and his wings  _ snap _ as they flare out, knocking over a chair at the table in the kitchen and a lamp next to the couch. They haven’t even hit the floor yet when he’s bounding towards Dean, lifting him into his arms and wrapping his wings around him protectively.

“What was that?” Castiel gasps, casting about frantically as if he’s looking for danger. “Are you alright?”

Everything happened so unbelievably fast, Dean still has the damn butter knife in his hand for god’s sake. As it sinks in that Cas reacted like a knight in shining armor to the toaster popping, Dean loses it. He bursts out laughing, going on so long that he can’t catch his breath and tears spring to his eyes. Castiel sets him down with a scowl while he tries to apologize with a wave of his hand that earns himself an annoyed huff from Cas, which only makes him laugh harder. Every time he thinks he’s got his shit together he sees a replay of Cas jumping at the toaster and loses it all over again. He has to grip the counter to stay up, and his stomach is starting to hurt from the contracting of his muscles, until finally, he gets himself under control enough to catch his breath. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, Cas,” he says, wiping at his eyes still with a huge smile on his face. “God, that was  _ hilarious.” _

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Castiel grumbles.

Dean has to suppress another laugh at how pissed he sounds. “You knocked a freaking chair over because a toaster scared you! Believe me, that’s good shit.”

“This is exactly why I feel uncomfortable here, Dean!” Castiel snaps. “I felt like a fool before that, and now -” His wings close up decisively while his expression turns stony. “I - I should just go.” 

“What! No! Come on, man. Calm down a sec.”

“Dean, stop. Obviously this isn’t going to work. I don’t belong here, you don’t belong with me in the mountains, and it’s ridiculous to keep pretending otherwise. I’ll just - I’ll just go. I hope you have a nice life,” he says softly, turning towards the patio door and whipping it open dramatically.

“You leave now and I’ll be at your cave by the time the sun goes down,” Dean threatens.

“Dean,” Castiel growls, whirling around to glare at him.

“Don’t  _ Dean _ me, you’re the one acting like a big frigging baby.” Castiel’s jaw drops a split second before hurt flashes across his face. “So you jumped at a toaster. So fucking what? You don’t get to just - just bail -” Dean stumbles, beginning to feel panic clawing its way up his throat. “- and never look back because you broke a lamp. That’s not how this works.”   


“How what works?”

“This!” Dean says, gesturing between them wildly. “You can’t just leave when I have no idea if you’ll be okay! If some dick is being mean to you, if your feathers will get so bad you can’t fly, if you’re stuck on the ground and thinking about offing yourself because I’m not around and everybody else is too fucking stupid to care.” He can hear his voice getting higher and higher pitched the more desperate he feels but he can’t stop. “You could be molting or getting bald patches and I’d -”

“Dean -”

“No, Cas! You don’t get it! You can’t just - just  _ fly away _ when I - when  _ you _ \- when you’re the only thing that’s made me feel even a little bit normal for the first time in three fucking months!” he bursts out with. He knows he’s overreacting. He can feel his palms sweating where his fists are clenched and he’s struggling to take in a steady breath. 

“Dean,” Castiel says again, approaching him this time. “It’s okay.”

He exhales shakily and looks up at the ceiling, trying to breathe and to act like he wasn’t about to go spiraling headfirst into another panic attack at the very  _ idea _ of never seeing Cas again. “You can’t - you can’t just go and never come back now, Cas. I need to know you’re gonna be okay,” he whispers with a broken voice. Castiel pulls him to his chest, circling him in his arms and his wings, and shushes him softly. “I don’t care if you don’t fit in with other humans or you don’t know anything about the things in the cabin. You fit in here ‘cause you’re with me.” He wraps his arms around Castiel and presses his face into his neck.  _ “We _ fit, Cas. You gotta know that.”

Castiel hugs him closer than ever, rubbing his face along his hair and forehead over and over. “I won’t leave, Dean. Not if you mean what you say.”

“I do.” His voice comes out rough with emotion, because he didn’t realize how strongly he felt about all that until he said it. “I don’t care about the lamp or if I have to explain every move I make for the next hundred years. I just - I just feel better when you’re here and I don’t want you to go for good.”

“I won’t,” Castiel repeats. “I promise. I’m sorry, Dean. I had no idea my presence in your life meant so much to you.”

Dean exhales again, starting to feel sheepish now that the panic is fading. “I kinda freaked out.”

“I kinda freaked out, too,” Castiel says, gently. “But look at the positive side. I got a nice, long hug out of it.”

Dean chuckles as he pulls away to look him in the eye, still surrounded by Castiel’s wings. “I’m sorry I laughed at you.”

Castiel sighs lightly, but there’s a small smile on his lips now. “I suppose in time I might come to see why that was so funny. And if you hadn’t been laughing  _ at _ me, I would probably say it was nice to see you laugh.”

“I haven’t laughed that hard  _ in years.” _

“Then I suppose it was worth it. Though I am still sorry about the lamp.”

Dean shrugs. “I didn’t buy it, don’t really care.” Trying to force some semblance of normalcy, he says, “If your wings will let me go, I can butter our toast so we can eat before everything gets freezing cold.”

“For food that smells this good, I think they’ll let you go eventually,” Castiel smiles. They unwind themselves and Dean smiles back before he turns towards the toast. “I, um, see that you got the dandelions I left for you,” Castiel says somewhat nervously, nodding towards where Dean has them in the glass.

“Yeah. That was nice of you. Pretty sure that’s the first time anybody’s ever given me flowers.”

“You... didn’t like them I guess?” Castiel asks carefully.

“What?” Dean asks in return, bewildered by the question. “Dude, I put them in a glass with water and left them on the table. What else am I supposed to do with them?”

“Dandelions are edible. I thought you might have them as part of a meal.”

Dean looks at the flowers that are now starting to brown and then back at Cas, only to see his wings have drooped. “You’re serious?”

Castiel nods, attempting a smile that only makes him look more sad. “I should have made sure you knew they were meant to eat. It’s my mistake. I wanted to bring you something for nourishment but I couldn’t think of anything you wouldn’t already have or that wouldn’t spoil, since I wasn’t sure when or even if you would check down at the dock at all.”

“Oh. I wasn’t supposed to eat the feather too, was I?” Dean quips as he places the toast on their plates.

Castiel rewards him with a smile, and his feathers perk back up. “No.”

“Okay, good. ‘Cause it kinda helps me fall asleep at night.”

“I like that,” Castiel replies, his feathers puffing up now. At least he seems to have gotten over the fact that he didn’t eat the flowers, Dean thinks with relief.

“Alright, come grab a plate and we can eat,” Dean tells him. “Just carry it to the table there.” Once Cas does as he’s asked, Dean pulls out a carton of orange juice and pours two glasses. Cas must be watching him because he comes to carry those to the table, too, then makes a third trip back to support Dean so he can take the few steps. The chair Cas knocked over is upright now, so Dean takes a load off and sits. “You ever have orange juice before?”

Castiel shakes his head as he too makes himself comfortable at the table. Dean can’t see past the table that’s in the way but he’d bet his wings brush the ground while he sits. “I’ve heard of oranges, but obviously they’re not something I can forage for myself.”

“They’re kinda acidic, but sweet enough that it balances out. If you don’t like it we can just get you some water though, so no pressure.” He spears a bite of his eggs, shoveling his forkful into his mouth. “Dig in, man.”

Castiel starts in on his eggs too (probably choosing something familiar to ease himself in, Dean figures) and nods appreciatively. “These are delicious.”

“Score one for me,” Dean answers, popping a piece of bacon into his mouth and _ mmm _ ing around the bite. “Freakin’ bacon man. Never gets old.”

Castiel abandons his eggs to select a piece of bacon for himself. Like he did with the Ritz cracker, he darts his tongue out to taste the very edge of it before he nibbles a tiny morsel off of it. His lips turn downwards as he makes a tiny, “Hm,” sound, then takes an actual bite. Dean watches raptly as his eyes light up for a split second before his lids close and he moans while he chews. Once he swallows, he opens his eyes again and looks across the table to Dean. “You were right. This is heavenly. I’ve never had anything like it!”

“Well eat up because I cooked tons.” It’s bizarre how happy it makes him to watch Cas eat a meal he cooked, and he thinks back to a few days ago when Cas had said something similar. Weird to realize that with Cas all alone in his cave and him all alone out here, their situations aren’t really all that different. 

Things seem to settle into a comfortable mood between them again while they eat. Castiel is a big fan of the orange juice, downing two glasses before he finishes his meal, and he loves the potatoes, too. He goes on and on about how great it is that they’re crispy on the outside but soft on the inside, and Dean knows what he has planned for dinner is going to be a hit. They both scrape their plates clean and drain their glasses, exchanging satisfied smiles. 

“Wasn’t so bad, huh?” Dean asks.

“It was delicious. I’m very thankful for your hospitality.”

“Well, you’re welcome, but I meant sharing a human meal at the table with me.”

“Oh,” Castiel smiles. “No, that was quite nice, as well.”

“Good. I’m gonna go grab a shower.” At Castiel’s blank look he explains, “We have water that runs through pipes and electricity heats it up. So it’s kinda like a hot rain shower, and that’s how most people bathe. Then once I’m dressed again, I’ll get you to wrap my foot up if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine.”

“I won’t be long. Feel free to poke around, just don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’ll assist you to the private room,” Castiel offers, getting to his feet.

“Bathroom,” Dean repeats. “And thanks.” Once they get to the bathroom, Dean grips onto the door jam for support. 

“Dean?” Castiel asks. “May I look at the photographs on your electronic device again?”

Dean smiles at the term and nods. “Yeah, sure. It’s just on the little table in my room. You have to pull the plug out on the end, then you should be good to go. You remember how to press the little camera button to get to the pictures?”

“I think so. Thank you.”

“K, have fun.”

Dean sits on the closed lid of the toilet to unwrap his foot for the first time in days. It’s still pretty colorful, but the swelling is going down every day thanks to him icing it frequently. He uses the shower wall to brace himself as he sits on the edge of the bathtub to swing his feet into the tub. Once the water’s on, he washes quickly and carefully so he doesn’t fall, rinses off and gets himself out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Which is when he realizes he didn’t bring any clothes with him into the bathroom. 

He wraps the towel more securely around his waist, telling himself he’s basically wearing the same thing Cas is now and not to overthink it, and opens the door to hop on one foot into his room. 

“Dean, I can help you -” Castiel says from where he’s perched on the end of Dean’s bed. But then his wings fan out, hitting the walls on both sides of him at the same time his eyes go wide. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know -” His wings are fluttering wildly, and though he ducks his head, Dean can feel his gaze hot on his skin as he keeps glancing up like he can’t keep his eyes off of him. 

“I forgot to bring clothes with me into the bathroom. Usually I don’t have to worry about it since I’m alone in the house and can walk in here naked to get them,” he explains, turning his back on Cas to open the closet and pull out a t-shirt and flannel. Before he can make his way to the dresser, he jerks when he feels something tickle his back. He spins around to see Castiel’s wings both stretched out towards him. 

“I’m so sorry!” Castiel exclaims, scooting backwards as his longest feathers stretch out further to brush over his neck and begin to slide down to his chest. Knowing Cas can’t control them, Dean crosses his arms over his naked chest and squirms when he feels the soft trickle of feathers skirting over his pectoral muscles. He tries to ignore the way his dick (already slightly plump from his hands on his body in the shower) twitches with interest at the new sensation. Castiel breathes out a tiny little moan, and that’s when Dean looks away from the inky black feathers against his skin and at Cas. His eyes are now closed and his head is tilted back. His chest and cheeks are flushed and there’s no hiding the way his loincloth is starting to look like a tent.

Dean clears his throat when it runs dry at the sight of a visibly aroused Cas and hops over to his dresser. The friction of the towel on his semi doesn’t help at all, but he grits his teeth and pretends this isn’t happening. Of course Castiel’s wings follow him, and as he pulls open a drawer to get a pair of boxers and jeans, the feathers slide down his rib cage. Dean’s elbow bangs into the wall when he yanks it away from how they’re tickling him in a  _ really _ good way. 

“Okay, no tickling!” he complains, rubbing at his elbow.

Castiel’s eyes open and Dean can see his darkened gaze rake over his body hungrily. His wings are taking advantage of the way Dean’s back is to the wall, and he’s pretty sure he’s covered in feathers from neck to knee now. Castiel’s alula feathers drift over his collarbone like thumbs, and Dean’s sharp intake of breath is drowned out by Castiel’s whimper. 

Cas squeezes his eyes shut again, his chest heaving from his labored breaths. “Dean, I can’t stop them - I need you to go into another room.”

“I’m working on it, but these fluffy fuckers are bossy,” Dean tells him, his voice a little too breathy to blame on anything but arousal.

“You don’t - you don’t understand,” Castiel gasps, sounding pained. “Your body - my wings on your body - it’s, it’s... it’s  _ so good, _ Dean.” 

“Yeah, kinda hard not to notice,” Dean admits. “And uh, probably a bad time to figure out I might have a bit of a feather kink.”

_ “Dean,”  _ Castiel moans, his hands fisting in Dean’s bed sheets. “You’re not  _ helping.” _

_ Fuck his voice, _ Dean thinks. So fucking rough and sexy. Dean’s own eyes drift closed as Castiel’s alulae move down his chest to his nipples, brushing over them so softly it almost feels like a warm puff of air. They come back up and flick over them again, harder this time, causing Dean’s head to fall back against the wall as blood rushes between his legs. 

“Dean,  _ go!” _ Castiel growls.

A thousand responses whirl around in his head.  _ What if I don’t want to? No thanks, kinda enjoying this. Five more minutes. _ But what he ultimately decides on is, “Do you  _ want  _ me to go? Or do you just think I want to go?” 

Because as far as he’s concerned, if Cas is good with his feathers turning him on, he’s pretty sure he could come with a few quick strokes of his cock if his alulae keep focusing on his nipples like that. Obviously Cas’s body is enjoying it, as evidenced by the way his dick’s standing tall and proud, but if he doesn’t want this, then he’ll go.

“I - yes - no. I don’t -  _ I don’t know,  _ Dean!” he exclaims wildly. “I can’t think when you smell like this and your bed smells like us and my wings - god, you feel  _ so good,  _ Dean. I can’t stop. I don’t know. I don’t know. I d-don’t know,” he chants, his voice cracking on the last one. 

“Okay, angel,” Dean says calmly, even though he’s feeling anything  _ but  _ calm with the way feathers are still flicking over his pebbled nipples and sending a bolt of arousal straight to his straining dick. “This feels good for me and I can see it feels good for you, too, but you gotta be sure, and I know you’re not. So I’m gonna go into the bathroom and get dressed, okay?”

“I need to go outside,” he says between clenched teeth, and maybe Dean’s projecting, but it sounds a hell of a lot like,  _ I need to jerk off _ to him.

“Do what you gotta do, just promise me you’re comin’ back. I think we need to talk about this kinda stuff.” Castiel nods and Dean can see the sheen of sweat shining on his face and across his muscled chest. His biceps strain because of the grip he has on his blankets, and his head is still tilted back and exposing the long column of his throat. He’s so fucking  _ hot.  _

“You look so damn good on my bed, Cas.”

_ “Dean,” _ Castiel gasps.

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” Dean promises, finally grabbing his jeans and boxers and hopping through the wall of feathers and into the bathroom where he closes the door. He can hear the rustling of feathers and the opening and closing of the patio door, and he leans back against the door where he tries to catch his breath.  _ Fuck _ those feathers felt good. He considers finishing himself off but decides against it.  _ Twice is a habit  _ and all that crap. He gets dressed, brushes his teeth, and tosses his dirty clothes into the bag to bring to the laundromat. 

Feeling more steady than when he was ready to beat off to Cas’s wings a little while ago, he makes it as far as the entrance to the living room when he realizes he has nothing to grab a hold of to get him to the couch, and his crutches are still out on the deck. 

He raises his voice and calls, “Cas? I could kinda use a hand in here.” Then hearing how that sounds, he laughs at himself and adds, “To walk.”

Castiel appears at the patio door, opens it, and walks through without ever lifting his eyes from the ground. His voice is raspy when he says, “My apologies, Dean, I didn’t mean to leave you stranded.”   


“You had other things on your mind,” Dean reminds him with a knowing smile. When Castiel gets close enough, his wings curl around him but he doesn’t reach for him with his hands and his eyes are still glued to the floor. It makes Dean’s chest ache for some reason, but he doesn’t want to make Cas uncomfortable. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna touch me anymore, or at least right now, but can you at least grab me my crutches from the deck?”

“I want to help you,” Castiel replies, and even through Dean’s flannel he can feel that Castiel’s skin is  _ on fire. _ “Where are you going?”

“Couch,” Dean says, pointing it out. “If you’ll come sit with me.”

Castiel leads him there and Dean gets himself comfortable. “Where can I find the cloth for your foot?” Castiel asks.

“Left it in the bathroom.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Dean sighs heavily and leans back into the couch, placing his foot on the coffee table for Cas. When Castiel comes back into the living room, he can see his entire face and chest is now beet red, and he’s still pretty sweaty. Looks way more intense than the usual after orgasm glow, that’s for damn sure.

“You okay, man?” he checks.

“I’m fine,” Castiel responds, though his voice is still scratchy. He takes a seat on the coffee table and pulls Dean’s foot into his lap. 

“You look like you’re burning up. Can angels get fevers?”

“Dean, please, forget about it. I know what’s happening and I promise you I’ll be fine.” Dean has about a thousand questions he wants to ask, but he lets it go. For now. “Your foot looks much, much better.”

_ Nice change of subject.  _ “Yeah, ice has really been helping, I think.”

“Is it still sore?” Castiel asks.

“I mean, if I poked at it or banged it, probably, yeah. But it isn’t throbbing all the time or anything anymore.”

“That’s good, I’m pleased to hear that.” His fingers are like fire on his skin, and Dean continues to worry about it while Castiel wraps his foot more securely than it has been in days. “There you go.”

“Feels a hundred times better already. Thanks, Cas. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” Castiel stays seated on the coffee table. “You can come sit with me if you want,” Dean offers. When he doesn’t move, he adds, “Couch is more comfortable than the table.”

“I’m not sure more proximity is wise at the moment.”

“It’s not like I’m gonna jump you,” Dean scoffs, more hurt by the rebuffal than he’s willing to acknowledge. 

“You said we need to talk.”   


Dean runs a hand through his hair nervously, leaving it on the back of his neck when he answers, “Well, obviously.”

Castiel sighs heavily, his wings drooping at his sides. “I know I crossed some boundaries, Dean, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I feel terrible. I’ve never acted this way before in my life, and after only knowing you a few days, I’ve acted like... like some kind of sex maniac several times already. I’m embarrassed and ashamed and I completely understand if you wish to rescind your offer of friendship.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Dean says quickly. “Take a breath there, buddy. I’ve had guys come on to me a hell of a lot harder than you have even after I told them to take a hike.”

Castiel’s wings stiffen and span wide with a  _ snap. _ “Who?” he demands, his eyes hard and menacing. 

Dean huffs out a surprised laugh. “Chill, Cas. It was a long time ago. My point is that I wasn’t asking you to stop, so it’s not like you took advantage of me or something. You don’t have to apologize and you definitely don’t have to feel badly about it.”

“Why didn’t you ask me to stop?” Castiel asks quietly.

“Because you’re hot and it felt good,” Dean says with ease.

“I don’t know what my temperature has to do with anything,” Castiel says under his breath.

Dean can’t help but grin at that. “No, hot like physically attractive. I think you’re really hot.”

Castiel has a self-satisfied smile on his face, but he points out, “I’m not even human.” Dean gets the feeling it’s something he’s been saying to himself a lot, and it isn’t lost on him how he’s been saying the same kind of thing to himself. For whatever reason, that’s what causes him to come to terms with how he really feels about Cas.

“Well, you look like one with wings, and I actually sorta  _ like _ the feathers. More than like ‘em,  honestly. So... I guess that doesn’t bother me all that much,” Dean admits for the first time. He licks his lips nervously before he asks a terrifying question. “Does it bother you that I’m human and you’re not?”   


“My wings were never bothered at all.”   


He frowns at his non-answer and pushes while he still has the balls. “Yeah, but what about the rest of you?”

Castiel looks away as his wings start fluttering, but his voice is calm and even when he answers. “You are the one and only bright spot I’ve had in my life for as long as I can remember.”

Dean feels a blush heat his cheeks as he smiles. “That’s real nice, Cas, but that’s still not really an answer to what I asked you.”

“That’s all I can say right now. There are... things you don’t understand.”

“So explain them to me, then.”

“I can’t,” Castiel says with a shake of his head. He finally looks Dean in the face, and the honesty and openness he sees in his bright blue eyes is confusing until he adds, “but I hope I can someday.”

“I have no idea what that means, but me too, I guess.” Castiel smiles for the first time since he came back inside. “Now that that’s uh, sorta outta the way, how about I introduce you to the world of television and movies with a classic?”

“I have no idea what that means, but sure,” Castiel says, echoing his words with a smile. 

“Get over here and wing burrito me so I can see the TV.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but he indulges him, and the two of them watch  _ Homeward Bound _ with Dean lying back against Castiel’s chest with both wings and both arms wrapped around him from behind, and Dean finds himself inwardly repeating what he said earlier: they just  _ fit. _


	7. Chapter 7

The movie doesn’t go over as well as he’d hoped. Cas has a hard time suspending disbelief and picks apart every aspect of the movie he doesn’t think is true, starting with the fact that the cats and dogs think like humans. He does get a laugh out of him when the dogs try and fail to catch fish, and when they outsmart the humans to escape the pound, though, so it isn’t a complete loss.

The best part of the movie actually ends up being the closeness. Castiel’s skin feels hotter than ever when they first lay together, but the longer they stay pressed together, the cooler he gets, until he’s pretty sure Cas is back to his normal, still slightly warmer body temperature at the end. Cas nuzzles into his neck several times during the movie and it’s all so fucking _quaint_ that Dean doesn’t want to move even when the movie’s over.

He turns around in his arms until they’re belly to belly and asks, “You ever nap mid-day?”

“No, but I can certainly see the appeal.”

Dean hums low in his throat. “You’re so warm and your wings are so damn soft. Makes me all sleepy.”

“You don’t sleep well at night, it makes sense that you’d be tired during the day.”

“Slept better last night with you than usual,” Dean tells him. “I don’t even know the last time I only had one nightmare. Maybe the first night I came out here?”

“You only had one that I know of when we were in my nest,” Castiel tells him, and Dean realizes that’s true.

“Guess you’re my lucky charm.”

“That sounds nice,” Castiel answers, dropping his nose into his hair again.

“How come you’re so obsessed with my neck and my hair?” Dean finally asks.

Castiel freezes for half a second before he responds. “I’m not obsessed with them, I’m just scenting you.”

“Scenting me? Like a dog?” Dean asks, tongue in cheek.

“You are such a brat,” Castiel says, poking him in the ribs and making Dean yelp in surprise. “Not like a dog. Like an angel.”

“I still don’t get it. You’re smelling me?”

“I do like the way you smell, but it’s more about making sure you smell like me.”

Dean pops his head up at that. “You’re _marking_ me?”

Castiel dodges his gaze and replies, “I suppose you could say that if you wanted to look at it that way.”

“You sneaky, possessive son of a bitch!” Dean laughs.

“I wasn’t sneaking,” Castiel insists. “I asked you if I could touch you multiple times and you gave your permission each time.”

“But you didn’t say _why_ you were doing it!”

“Because I don’t know how to explain to you.” When Dean waits for him to try, he says, “It calms me to have you in my space smelling like me, and now that we’re here, having you smell like me gives me something familiar to focus on. And this way, if another angel was to encounter you, they would know that you... that I, well...” He pauses, seeming to search for the right words. “They would know that we know each other.”

Dean narrows his eyes, fully aware that he’s not getting the whole story here. “Is that a common thing that angels do to one another? Scent or mark each other?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers quickly, but his wings fluttering against his skin give him away.

“So like, friends do that?” he presses.

His feathers twitch even more obviously. “Sometimes.”

Dean snorts quietly. “Like when?”

“Like when two angels are just getting to know each other. It’s not uncommon,” he maintains.

“How come you didn’t tell me that’s what you were doing then?”

“I told you already, I didn’t know if you would understand. I can’t even begin to explain how grounding it is when our scents are on each other. Like when you had your shower today, it made me inexplicably happy to walk into your room and smell myself on your bed.”

“And when you first got here last night and didn’t smell you on me at all...”

“It felt very wrong,” Castiel admits. “You smell odd to me now when you don’t smell a little bit like me.”

“Guess you’ll have to come by often then, make sure your mark stays,” Dean says, mostly joking just to encourage him to visit again.

“I would like that more than you know, but I can’t be away from home as often as I’d like to right now.” He sounds really sad about that and he obviously isn’t going to elaborate without prompting, so Dean asks about it.

“What’s going on at home?”

“I can’t tell you,” Castiel says heavily. “I wish I could, believe me, but I can’t. Which reminds me, I should probably warn you that there will be a period of time coming up when I won’t be able to see you at all, regardless of how badly I want to.”

“Okay,” Dean says slowly, confused. “Why can’t you see me?”

“It just won’t be possible.”

“Sounds dumb,” Dean says childishly. “When’s it gonna be?”

“I’m not exactly sure. It could be anytime now.”

Dean exhales and lays his head back on Castiel’s chest. “That’s stupid. How’m I going to know if you’re okay if I can’t see you for ‘a period of time’?”

“I’ll be okay,” Castiel promises, brushing through his hair again. “I can try to leave you word at the dock as long as I can, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that the whole time. It depends how I react to being so close to you.”

It all sounds so weird that it has something in his stomach twisting uncomfortably. Nerves, he realizes. “This whole thing is kinda making me nervous,” Dean tells him.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says quietly, rubbing his face along the top of his head and holding him tighter in his arms. “I only told you to try to ease any potential worry, not make it worse.”

“Well, it’s a bit better, I guess. I won’t be worrying you’re dead somewhere now if you don’t show up, but I will be worrying about whatever’s keeping you away.”

“I really am sorry,” Castiel says again. “I enjoy spending time with you. I would prefer to be wherever you are if I had a choice.”

Dean smiles to himself, glad that Cas seems to enjoy hanging out as much as he does. “Is this thing going on at home an angel thing or a Castiel thing?”

Cas exhales a tiny laugh. “It’s been a long time since I heard you say my actual name,” he explains, tucking his chin over his head again. “And it’s an angel thing, although admittedly it’s tougher on unmated angels than on the ones with a pair bond.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re not alone and I will be.”

“You don’t have to be alone, though,” Dean says, pushing up to his elbows again. “I’m not an angel, but I can help you. Just tell me what you need and as long as it doesn’t involve feathers or flying, or using both feet, I got you.”

Castiel takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “You don’t even know what you’re offering.”

“Yeah because you won’t tell me,” Dean reminds him, pushing away from his chest to sit up now that he’s irritated about all of this secrecy. The cabin’s cold air comes back to him now that he’s not wrapped up in Cas’s arms and wings, and he pulls his open flannel closed across his chest before he crosses his arms.

“You don’t have to pout about it,” Castiel says, sounding amused.

“I’m not pouting,” Dean argues, though he is.

Castiel laughs a little. “You’re cute with your bottom lip sticking out like that.”

“Oh, screw you,” Dean says, looking away from him.

He feels the tip of one of Castiel’s feathers tickle his cheek and bats it away as he tries to resist a smile... when another feather replaces it, then another and another. It’s like whack a mole, and as soon as he cracks a smile, Castiel says, “Please don’t be mad at me, Dean.”

“I’m not mad, I’m just annoyed that you won’t tell me what’s going on.”

“I _can’t_ tell you what’s going on,” Castiel corrects. “I just need you to trust me.”

Dean huffs in annoyance. “I trust you, but I still don’t like it.”

“Perhaps we should talk about something else then,” Castiel offers. “What did you do since I saw you last?”

“Not a lot,” Dean says, thawing enough to answer his question. He doesn’t know how long Cas is gonna be here so he doesn’t really want to hold a grudge. “Hard to do what I usually do around here with only one foot. I’m probably gonna get fat since I can’t work out.”

“I was able to get a good look when you were only covered by that cloth, and you’re not fat.”

“Checking me out, huh Cas?”

Castiel rolling his eyes is the only response he gets to that, but they both already know he _was_ checking him out so he lets it go and doesn’t comment when Cas kind of changes the subject. “What kinds of things did you used to do to work out?”

“Well, since I haven’t been on the job it isn’t as much as usual. But the few weeks I was out here, I mostly hiked through the trails. That’s what made me want to come to your mountain in the first place. I started bird watching and couldn’t find a golden eagle, so I went looking for it.”

“A golden eagle? Why that specific bird?”

“It’s one in my book that I haven’t seen yet, and I liked the look of its wings.”

“They do have beautiful coloring,” Castiel says sadly.

“I thought so too at first, but I’m more into big ass black wings right now,” Dean reassures him. “Way cooler than a golden eagle.”

“That’s very kind of you but there’s no need to placate me.”

“Uh hello. Am I sleeping every night with a golden eagle’s feather or one of yours?”

Castiel’s wings fluff up but he says, “Do you _have_ a golden eagle’s feather?”

“Don’t want one now that I’ve got yours. Which reminds me, what kind of a feather is the big one you gave me?”

“What do you mean?” Castiel asks curiously.

“The little one’s a down feather, right?”

“You kept that?”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t think it was an accident that they basically fell onto my head.” Castiel doesn’t comment on that, which in itself is interesting, but Dean goes back to his original line of questioning anyway. “So - down feather, right?”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I looked it up,” he says with a shrug. “Read about it on the Internet.”

“There’s information about angel wings on the Internet?”

“No, about bird wings - and before you get snippy with me, I know you’re not a bird - but there were some similarities. Like the shape of your wings and how birds only allow mates or family to help them groom their wings if they can’t reach. So I know the feather you left me wasn’t big enough to be a flight feather but I couldn’t figure out what it was from there.”

“It’s a secondary feather,” Castiel finally says. “I would have given you a flight feather if I could, but losing one makes it much harder to fly.”

“Maybe when one falls out, then. I’d love to have a big one.”

“When one falls out I’ll save it for you,” Castiel says shyly.

“Awesome. I’m gonna have a little Cas collection in my nightstand with your other two and that rock.”

Castiel’s eyes go wide and he smiles bigger than Dean’s ever seen him. “You kept the rock, too?”

“So you did leave it for me? I couldn’t figure out why you’d want me to have a rock, but it didn’t make any sense that it would’ve blown there. What’s it for?”

“It’s a gift,” Castiel says simply, still smiling, a small, endearing smile.

“A gift, huh?” Dean repeats, kind of lost, but happy Cas is happy. “Well I guess it’s a good thing I kept it, then.”

“This makes me very, very happy,” Castiel says, sitting up beside him so he can wrap a wing around his back. “I didn’t know you accepted it.”

“‘Course I’m gonna accept a gift from you. I would’ve told you if I knew it was important.”

He ducks his head shyly and says, “If you look closely, there are tiny green specks on the bottom. It reminded me of your eyes.”

Dean scoots over so they’re a little closer and knocks their shoulders together, trying to act like there aren’t butterflies in his stomach for the first time in a long time. “That’s pretty sweet, Cas. You just come across it on a walk or something?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, I searched for it. For a while, actually. I didn’t want to just offer you any rock. I knew I had to find one worthy of you.”

A rock worthy of him? “Wow,” he says, starting to feel a bit nervous now. “Flowers _and_ a green speckled rock. I must be special, huh?”

“I’ve never offered a rock to anybody before,” Castiel admits, a pink tinge beginning to spread on his cheeks. “I wanted to make sure I did it right.”

“So it’s not just a rock,” Dean guesses.

“W-why would you say that?” Castiel stammers.

“Because you’re blushing and your wings are going crazy.”

Castiel looks away and answers, “I told you, it’s a gift.”

“A gift for what?” Dean presses.

“It’s a gift of appreciation. To show I admire you and intend to spend more time with you to get to know you better.”

“So this is an angel thing,” Dean comments, getting a nod from Cas. “What’s it mean if an angel accepts a gift from another angel?”

“That they feel the same way about the angel who gave the gift.”

Dean waits for Cas to look back at him to gauge his expression. He looks a weird mix of skittish and determined, so Dean ensures his voice comes out soft and patient. “Did you worry, that to me, picking up a rock off the dock was just picking a rock up off the dock? ‘Cause I’m not an angel, Cas, and when I took it I didn’t know it meant anything specific.”

“I thought of that, yes,” Castiel admits.

“Listen,” Dean says, as gently as he can. “I like you. I like being close to you and being in your wings, and I like spending time with you. But you can’t try and get me to do angel stuff without explaining what it means first. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you by doing something wrong I don’t even know I’m doing.” Castiel looks confused, so he says, “What if I didn’t pick up that rock on a whim and instead kicked it into the lake? What would you have thought?”

“I would have been upset thinking that you didn’t return my affections,” Castiel answers.

 _His affections?_ Damn, he’s having a hell of time keeping up with this conversation. “Which wouldn’t have been true, but I didn’t know that the rock meant anything. Do you get what I’m saying?”

Cas looks at him with an expression full with empathy. “I understand what you’re saying, but I can’t fix it.”

“What’s that mean?” Dean asks, confused more than ever. “Why couldn’t you just tell me what it was for before you gave it to me?”

“I couldn’t ask you to accept my gift because if you didn’t accept it freely without prompting then it wouldn’t have counted.”

“Counted for _what?”_ Dean asks, completely exasperated now.

Castiel shakes his head. “I can’t tell you.”

“Holy fuck,” Dean complains, throwing his hands up in the air.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “Come here,” Castiel offers, opening his arms for Dean to fall into. Dean’s irritated, but he knows Cas and his feathers are comforting, so he goes for it anyway. Castiel’s hand trails warmth up and down his spine for a minute before he says, “I know you’re frustrated, and I apologize for it. You just... you’re very special to me, and I want to treat you right.”

“You know, I’m starting to think you’re sweet on me, Cas,” Dean says, already pretty sure that’s the case.

“You’re my favorite person.”

That doesn’t sound like a no, and he suddenly has no idea how he feels now that it isn’t a hypothetical. Cas makes him feel safe and warm, yeah, and better than he does without him, but is it more than that? Does Cas think they’re more than friends? Dean doesn’t even know if he wants to be more than friends, if he can handle that right now. Is he making Cas think that because he keeps cuddling with him?

Considering he knows Cas has never done this before, he doesn’t want to hurt his feelings. He chews on his bottom lip while he thinks of the right way to ask about all of this. Finally, realizing he’s way out of his element here, he just blurts out, “Are we angel dating?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Are you trying to figure out if I’m interested in you romantically?”

There’s a stretch of silence where Dean wonders if he’s way off, and he’s trying to come to terms with how he feels about that unexpected twist when Castiel responds. “I’m trying to figure out if that might be possible for both of us.”

He doesn’t know why he feels so shocked all over again, but that’s undoubtedly the first emotion he feels. He had his suspicions about Cas’s feelings and plenty of proof to go off of. Hell, Cas’s feathers are all over him any chance they get and Cas is obviously on board considering he’s so into marking him. They’re cuddling right now for god’s sake, and it’s not like he’d lie between the legs of just any guy to watch a movie, it’d only be a guy he was into.

Jesus, is he _into_ Cas? He’s not even human!

And he only mates for life.

If Cas only gets to do the dating thing once, he should share that with somebody a hell of a lot better off than him.

“Cas, you know I’m a mess, right? You’ve seen the panic attacks and the nightmares, and you’ve only been around me for two days. I’m like that all the time. Sometimes even worse.”

“I understand you’re having a hard time right now, yes. I don’t think less of you for it.”

“Yet,” Dean adds darkly. “And listen. I’m only gonna be in this cabin for less than a year. I don’t even live in this state. I live in Kansas.”

“I don’t live in the mountains all the time either,” Castiel tells him.

“You don’t?”

“We migrate,” Castiel says. “Like birds.”

That’s enough to get a laugh out of him, and he feels affection for the angel bloom inside of his chest when Cas laughs along. _Does_ he like Cas? Is that what that feeling is inside? Been so long he almost didn’t recognize it. Not that that changes anything.

“It’s kinda daunting to know you only do this for life,” Dean admits. “If you choose me then I’m the only shot you’ve got.”

“If it helps, I don’t even know if that’s true considering you’re human.”

“Hey, yeah, I thought you weren’t even allowed to reveal yourself to humans?” Dean remembers.

“And yet we here.”

Dean snickers, remembering how he said something similar in the cave. “I’ve been a bad influence on you already.”

“And yet I’m happier and feel more fulfilled now since I’ve met you than I ever have before.” Dean barely has a second to let that sink in before he continues. “I’ve thought about this a lot. The other angels hate me anyway. They already think I’m an abomination and an embarrassment to them. If they’re going to keep thinking that, I might as well spend time with somebody who makes me feel something other than self-hatred.”

His heart goes out to him and he has to concentrate on why this isn’t a good idea so he can tell him. “Cas, it’s not that I’m not into you. I just - I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I can date somebody right now. I can’t even keep a job.”

“I would never ask you for more than you’re willing to give. I just want to keep being like this with you, and only you. I want to learn about how you live your life, I want you to learn about how I live mine, and I want to hear you laugh again so hard that you can’t breathe - just not at my expense next time,” Castiel teases. “I want you to come back to my nest often and make sure it keeps smelling like you. I want to sleep with you _burritoed_ in my wings whenever I can, and I want you to smell like me when I’m around you. That’s all I want right now.”

“We already do that.”

“So it shouldn’t be hard to say yes,” Castiel says lightly. He’s making it sound so easy but Dean knows it’s not that cut and dry.

“It’s different knowing you’re doing it to try to find out if you want me forever.”

“And if you want me forever in return.”

He swallows hard. “We’re not even the same species.”

“We’re the same where it matters,” Castiel counters. A feather brushes his forehead. “Here.” A warm hand covers his heart. “Here.” He waits a beat before he adds, “And beneath our clothes, though I’m not going to touch you there right now.”

“Well now you’re just taking all the fun out of it,” Dean quips, but the truth is, he’s oddly moved by Castiel pointing out their similarities. And he has a point. “We do this, are you gonna let me help you with your wings?”

“Eventually, if things go well,” Castiel replies.

“Am I allowed to kiss you?”

Castiel lifts his hand to cup Dean’s face, using his thumb to tap gently on the seam of his lips. “I want to,” he says softly. “But I can’t quite yet. Maybe when I get back.” He doesn’t take his eyes or his thumb off of Dean’s lips for what feels like a really long time, and though Dean’s heart’s beating a mile a minute, he finds he isn’t uncomfortable with it. “Will you wait for me?” Cas asks quietly, his eyes flicking up to meet his.

Jesus, his eyes are so frickin’ clear and blue, and when Cas looks at him like this - like he’s the only thing in the entire world that matters to him - he feels like Cas can see him in a way nobody ever has. How is he supposed to say no to that?

“How long are you gonna be gone?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Maybe a week without being able to see you.”

Dean nods, his mind made up. “I can wait that long. Not like I got anything else going on. Only thing is if the snow really starts coming down, I’m gonna have to make the drive back home. These back roads aren’t meant for my car.”

“We’re not expecting snow quite yet, but if it surprises us and sticks to the ground, I’ll do whatever I can to be here before you go.”

Dean nods, happy with that. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says earnestly. Then, with a quick smile, he changes the subject. “I forgot you had a car. Will you show me? I’ve never seen one close up before.”

Dean’s grin spreads wide. “It’s your lucky day, Cas, ‘cause I’ve got the nicest car out there.”

“Really?”

“Well, I mean, I think so. Help me up and I’ll show you.” Of course, Castiel takes the opportunity to lift him directly into his arms, which makes Dean huff with amusement. “I’m gonna need a jacket to go out there.”

“I’ll keep you warm,” Castiel answers, which Dean figures will work as long as he stays close.

So they spend the rest of the morning outside with Baby. Cas is very appreciative of the machinery, and Dean’s thrilled because he’s never had such an avid student before. With Cas leaning against his back to keep him warm, he opens up the hood to show him how it works, explaining different parts and how they work together. Cas is so excited, he even lets him sit behind the wheel and start her up. They have to leave both front doors open so his wings don’t get squished, but Dean takes a picture of him in the driver’s seat with a flush of happiness painting his cheeks.

After double checking that Castiel plans to stay for dinner, the two of them share leftover pizza for lunch that has Cas more excited than anything so far. He goes so far to say that pizza is his new favorite food, causing Dean to make a mental note about always having pizza here when Cas comes around. He might even be able to bring him a few slices in his backpack the next time he can walk there. It’d probably be a nice surprise since Cas wouldn’t expect it.

They play cards in the afternoon since there isn’t much more to do other than watch TV. He’s surprised but pleased when it turns out Cas has a competitive streak, and the two of them poke at each other, taking turns gloating and pouting, and in Dean’s case at least, laughing more than he has in a long time.

At Castiel’s request for more time outside, Dean dresses warmly and the two of them head out to his hike halfway point. He starts out walking with Castiel’s support, but it isn’t long before he’s sweating from exertion and Castiel lifts him into his arms instead.

“You hardly make any sound when you walk,” Dean comments after noting the lack of crunch of leaves and dirt under his feet.

“I’m not wearing hard soled shoes like you do.”

“What’s with that, anyway? Don’t your feet get cold or sore when you step on rocks and sticks and stuff?”

“Occasionally, but not often.”

“I’m gonna have to check out your feet someday to see why then, because if I walked out here barefoot I’d be hopping around and cursing.”

“Huh. Well now that makes me want to look more closely at your feet, too,” Castiel tells him.

Dean laughs at how weird that is before he realizes they almost missed their spot. “Hey, turn right here towards that clearing.”

Castiel leads the way through it with Dean still in his arms, and breathes happily once they’re in the open air. “This is beautiful, Dean. Would you like to sit for a moment?”

When Dean nods, Cas sets him down and helps him get to his butt more gracefully than he could have done on his own. Before he can even begin to complain about how cold it is, Castiel scoots in behind him and pulls him back until he’s leaning on his chest. Castiel’s legs bracket his, and with his arms around his shoulders and his wings covering him like a blanket from chin to foot, he’s as warm as he’d be at home (other than his face).

“This is where I saw my big first bird, the one that caught my interest and made me want to go hunt for the golden eagle,” Dean explains once they’re settled.

“So in a way, we owe our friendship to this spot.”

“Yeah, I guess so. And to Naomi for fucking up my foot.”

Castiel makes a low, unimpressed sound in his throat. “I shouldn’t have let her go so easily. If she attempted to harm you now I’d kill her with my bare hands.”

Dean’s taken aback from the quick change of heart. “Little overprotective now, are we?”

“I don’t see it that way,” Castiel disagrees. “This is a beautiful spot, though.”

“Can you see where your cave is from here?”

“Not exactly.” He points with his finger. “It’s in that general area, but I’m sure you can’t see as well as I can and even I can’t pinpoint one section of rock from another this far away. And especially not when the sun is starting to set.”

“How far can you see?”

“Hmmm. Far, but I wouldn’t know how to measure it.”

“Guess that makes sense if you’ve gotta find food and stuff from the sky.” Then another thought occurs to him. “What’s it like to fly?”

“Wonderful,” Castiel says, and though he can’t see it, he can hear the smile in his voice. “When I’m in the sky, I feel like that’s where I belong. If it weren’t for humans, I’m sure all of us would spend more time in the air and less time on the ground.”

“Think I’ll ever get to see you fly?”

“I hope so. In a perfect world, I’d convince you to trust me enough so I could fly with you in my arms,” he says, nuzzling into his neck.

Dean chuckles. “Fat chance, Cas.”

“I could show you things you’d never see any other way,” Castiel tries. “I’d keep you safe. You must know that already.”

“Yeah, but what a bitch it’s gonna be when we have to clean my vomit out of your wings.”

That makes Castiel laugh. “We’ll have to bring you a bowl.”

“Sounds romantic,” Dean teases.

“Funny you say that, because bonded pairs do sometimes dance together in the sky,” Castiel says dreamily. “It’s breathtaking to watch.”

There’s a distinct pang in his chest when he thinks about how if he lets Cas in and things go well, he’ll never have that.

“Not something you could do if you choose a human for a mate,” he points out.

“Maybe not just any human,” Castiel agrees. “But my human? He’d be bright and creative, and we’d come up with our own version together. It would be better than the rest of them and far more special because it would only be ours.”

Dean feels happiness inflate him like a balloon, knowing Castiel is thinking about him. “You’re pretty smooth for never having done this before.”

“Smooth? Smooth how?”

“Saying all the right things. Making me feel special. Finding the most sensitive spot on my neck and nuzzling into it just right. Suggesting we come out here at sunset in the first place.”

Castiel laughs a little bit. “You do make me sound pretty smooth. Maybe I’m a natural.”

“Kinda thought I’d be the one to seduce you if the time ever came,” Dean admits.

“Mmm,” Castiel hums, his nose and lips resting against Dean’s neck now. He can feel the vibration against his skin and tilts his head to the side to give him more space. Cas isn’t kissing him, exactly, just moving his nose and lips from spot to spot on his neck without the pushing pressure of an actual kiss. “You’ve thought about that?”

“In case you forgot, you had me ready to blow my load twice already. ‘Course I thought about that.” He waits a beat and then admits in a quieter voice, “Thought about you.”

“I think about you, too,” Castiel whispers. “For the first time, the thoughts in my head have a distinct and pleasing form instead of just a faceless person.”

“Also has no wings,” Dean ventures as a guess.

“That’s not entirely true. I can picture you with wings quite easily. You’d be dazzling, with those golden specks in your eyes on your feathers as well. You’d put every other angel to shame, have them all worshiping at your feet.” Dean shivers when he feels Cas rub his face along his neck. His skin is cool from the air but Cas is so warm, and it feels damn good. “But I don’t think of you like that often. I like how you fit in my arms without wings. I like you the way you are.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda getting that,” Dean says, strangely breathless. God, he’s had people with their hands down his pants who didn’t affect him as much as Cas is right now with his sweet-talking and almost-but-not-quite kissing him.

Why does everything feel so much better with him than anybody else?

“I like how easily I can carry you and how closely we can sit together without wings between us. Being pressed together with your back to my chest.” Another shiver runs through him when he feels Cas’s breath hot on the back of his neck. “Your back... has anybody ever told you how distractingly muscular your back is, Dean?”

Any thoughts of _just friends_ go flying out the window when he lets himself feel how good it is to be with Cas like this without second guessing it. It suddenly doesn't matter if he’s fucked up in every other aspect of his life because _this_ feels right. So he throws caution to the wind and completely gives himself over to the attraction he feels, to the butterflies in his stomach, and to the warmth he wants to burrow into and never come out of. He surrenders to the serenity he always feels wrapped up in everything that’s Castiel.

If they’re angel dating, he’s all in.

Outwardly, he tries to act like he isn’t about to melt into a puddle, though, just so Cas doesn’t think he’s a big sap.

“You’re one to talk about bein’ distracting. You walk around mostly naked all the damn time, looking like a wet dream.”

“A wet dream?” The words are barely out of his mouth when he inhales sharply and lets it out on a soft, _“Oh._ Well, thank you, I think?”

Dean laughs, and it’s only when his eyes open to see that the sunset has spread into a myriad of several different colors that he realizes he closed them at all. “Shit, look at that,” Dean says, resting his head back on Castiel’s shoulder. He watches as the colors change as the sun descends, awed and amazed by how many different colors there can be in the sky. “Makes me wish I could paint or something. You ever see this from the sky? Flying?”

“A time or two when I was younger and more foolish,” Castiel confirms. Dean can feel his lips and nose trail the line of his jaw softly, making him feel like his insides are turning to jelly. “But this is by far the nicest sunset I’ve ever watched.”

“Because it’s with me?” Dean asks teasingly, figuring that’s what was coming next.

“I was going to leave it unsaid, but since you needed confirmation: yes.” That’s probably the nicest thing anyone's said to him in _years,_ and he’s glad Cas can’t see both how pink his cheeks go and how big he smiles from the compliment. “You smell incredibly happy.” Dean lets out a soft laugh, pleased that Cas knows how he’s making him feel right now without having to say it. “And slightly aroused.”

That makes him laugh again, but when he feels Castiel’s alula feather wrap around his wrist, he sobers up and presses his index finger to the tip. “Can I touch it?” Dean asks.

Cas tenses behind him before he lets out a long, slow breath and relaxes. “I should say no,” he whispers.

Which is a yes. “Bad influence on you, remember?” Dean says as he traces the length of the feather with his finger. As he does, he can see that it’s actually a tightly woven group of more than one. “I thought an alula feather was just a single feather.”

“They work together as one,” Castiel explains. “But I have five alula feathers on each wing.”

“They remind me of fingers,” Dean says, as he smooths them between his own thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t typically use them like that, but I find myself doing it more when I’m with you.”

“That’s because your feathers are all needy and want to touch as much of me as possible,” Dean laughs lightly.

“My feathers aren’t alone in that, but they have significantly less control than I do.”

Dean breathes out another laugh, surprised all over again at how well Cas is sweeping him off his feet without making it seem sappy, so he doesn’t respond right away to make sure he doesn’t say anything stupid. Instead, he keeps playing with his feathers. “Damn. These are really, really soft, Cas.”

“Thank you,” he answers, puffing up predictably.

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to them,” Dean admits in awe. “There’s so many. I wanna touch every single one of them. Show you how awesome I think they are.” He slides his hand so that his thumb interlocks with his alulae, smiling when the feathers curve around his wrist again. He goes with his instincts and urges his wing up to his mouth, inhaling the ever present smell of wood on Castiel’s feathers before he plants a chaste kiss to the spot where his feathers weave around his thumb. “This okay?” he asks.

“Very okay,” Castiel answers, his voice low.

Dean lifts his wing a little bit higher up and rests his cheek on the softness, grinning when the feathers fan out and he can slide his fingers between them from behind. He presses his hand to his face with Castiel’s feathers between his palm and his cheek, and inhales again, letting his eyelids droop closed to try to remember this moment. The moment he had an angel’s feathers on his face, making him feel like he doesn’t have a worry in the world.

“I think I could stay like this forever and be perfectly happy,” Castiel says quietly, wrapping his arms around Dean’s stomach more firmly. “This has been a very good day.”

“The best part’s still to come,” Dean says, thinking of dinner.

“I can’t imagine anything better than this.”

“You softie,” Dean teases, flicking one of his feathers.

Castiel laughs abruptly while the rest of his feathers rustle. “That tickled.”

“Well you tickled me when you had me pinned to the wall before, so now we’re even.”

The sun keeps sinking slowly towards the ground as they sit there together, Dean running his fingers over and through the feathers he’s been granted permission to touch, feeling Castiel relax more and more into his body with every minute that passes. Cas hooks his chin over Dean’s shoulder with his nose pressed to his neck while his breathing slows in increments until Dean would think he’d fallen asleep if he couldn’t feel his heart jack-hammering against his back. He keeps his alulae spread so Dean can pay attention to each of his feathers one-on-one, and intermittently makes soft, pleased sounds against Dean’s skin when he finds a good spot.

Dean thinks about how he could do this for days. About how soft Castiel’s feathers are and how soothing it is to rub each feather through his thumb and index finger from base to tip, and how the single, solitary feather in his nightstand is going to be a poor substitute now that he knows how it feels to have his feathers twitch and press into his hand for more while he strokes them.

“Which one of us is going to fall asleep first?” Dean asks, breaking the tender silence they’d fallen into.

“Mmm,” Castiel moans, the low timbre of his voice vibrating on Dean’s skin and causing the tiny hairs on the back of his neck to stand at attention. “I’ve never felt more relaxed in my life.”

“You like a little wing massage, huh?”

“Nobody’s ever touched my wings like this before. It feels so much better than when I do it. It’s incredible. Better than incredible - I just don’t have the words right now because my mind feels like mush.”

Dean laughs lightly, pleased that he’s making Castiel feel as good as he’s been making him feel since he got here. “Just think about how good I’m gonna make you feel when you let me touch all of your feathers.”

“I’ve been trying not to think about that the entire time,” Castiel confesses. “It’s a very tempting thought, but I should bring you back home before one or both of us gets carried away and the sun sets entirely.”

“I am kinda starving,” Dean comments. “And I still have my favorite meal to make you.”

“We’ll get you home, then,” Castiel says. Dean sits up straight so Cas can get to his feet, then accepts the offered hand so he can get up as well. He’s already leaning forwards when Castiel pulls him in for a hug, rubbing his face slowly but firmly along his neck. When he pulls away, Dean goes with his gut and ducks his head to rub his cheek along Castiel’s neck, too, drawing a gasp from Cas.

He leans back to look at his face to make sure he didn’t just commit some kind of angel faux-pas, sees shock and awe written all over his features, and smiles nervously. “Seems only fair. If you’re gonna mark me as yours, then I’m marking you, too. Mine,” Dean says lightly. Hopefully, that’s enough for Cas to know that he’s on board with this whole maybe kinda dating thing.

Castiel’s wings spread wide and then bow gracefully in front of him, and while Castiel’s face still heats up, he only sighs in resignation this time instead of freaking out. Castiel gathers him in close again and drops his forehead against Dean’s with his eyes closed and a gentle smile on his lips that Dean wants to kiss now more than ever. “You are going to be the end of me, Dean Winchester.”

“Not before burgers,” Dean says, giving his cheek a gentle pat that forces his eyes open. “Lift my ass up and let’s go, angel.”

“Don’t tempt me with your ass,” Castiel shoots back, surprising a laugh out of Dean as he lifts him like he weighs nothing and carries him back to the cabin.

Castiel wrinkles his nose up while he watches Dean form hamburger patties with his bare hands. “That does not look appetizing in the least.”

“I’d be kinda grossed out if it did. I still have to cook it. This is ground, raw meat, buddy.”

“What is the meaning of the word ‘buddy’?” Castiel asks. “You’ve used it to address me several times now and I’m still not entirely clear.”

“Oh. It’s another word for friend. Pal, buddy, bro,” Dean supplies, placing one of the patties next to the frying pan to start on the other.

“So it’s an expression of friendship.” Dean nods at that, and doesn’t miss the soft, _humph,_ Castiel lets out under his breath. He eyes him, eyebrows raised and waiting for an explanation. “I thought it was an endearment. Your voice always sounds so soft when you say it.”

Dean gives him a knowing smile. “Now you’re miffed ‘cause you thought I was flirting with you when I wasn’t.”

“You _have_ flirted with me before though, right?”

“Guess I’m not doing that good a job if you’re asking,” Dean teases. “I think I got into the habit of calling you buddy when I was trying to tell myself not to be attracted to you because you’re an angel, not a human. If I called you buddy it was like reminding myself that we were friends and that’s it.”

“But now we’re not friends and that’s it?”

“I’d say probably not. I’ve never watched a sunset wrapped up in the arms of my friend, before,” Dean admits, squirming a little. “Or marked them so other angels knew to back off.”

Castiel smiles happily before he reassures him. “I don’t want any of the other angels. You’re the only one I can’t get out of my head.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’m giving you all my best stuff here,” Dean says with a friendly wink, gesturing to the food. “Homemade burgers always win me big points with dates.”

“Dates,” Castiel repeats. “That’s what you do with a romantic interest? Date them?”

“Yeah. Make dinner, go out for dinner, get a coffee, see a movie, whatever.”  
“We did almost all of that today,” Castiel says with a smile.

“Yeah, I guess we kinda did,” Dean realizes. “It’s mostly just something to do while you talk to one another and see if you get along enough to keep spending time together before you fall in love and live happily ever after.”

“It sounds like courting,” Castiel comments.

Dean nods. “That’s an old fashioned term for humans, but yeah, it’s pretty much the same thing.”

“We’re not courting,” Castiel says bluntly.

Dean ducks his head, surprised by the sting of hurt inside. He swallows down the lump that’s suddenly in his throat and croaks, “Okay.”

“Oh,” Castiel whispers, approaching him quickly to turn Dean towards him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You, uh, you didn’t. It’s fine,” Dean says, not taking his eyes off of the floor.

“You can’t lie to me when I can smell it on you, Dean,” Castiel says gently, causing heat to spread across his cheeks. “Please don’t be so quick to think I’m not already enchanted by you.” He’s never gonna stop blushing if Cas doesn’t stop saying shit like that. “I didn’t mean that I wasn’t interested in courting you, just that we aren’t there yet. There are... things we have to do first. Certain traditions I have to adhere to.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I can’t say exactly, but maybe something along the lines of presenting the object of your affection with a gift,” Castiel says, tipping his chin up so he’s forced to look him in the face. His smile is so warm and genuine, Dean knows he’s not joking.

“Yeah?”

“You understand that I can’t tell you if that’s true or not, right? Because it’s against the rules to discuss one’s intentions. Each step has to be completed on both ends without coercion.” Castiel’s too-blue eyes are sparkling with mischief and Dean feels the hurt that was so strong just a minute ago disappear, replaced entirely with affection.

“I really want to kiss you,” he tells him. “If you’d let me, I’d do it right now. Would’ve done it when you put our heads together at the sunset, too.”

“You’re very tempting,” Castiel says, his eyes darker now than they were a second ago. “But I’ve broken several rules with you already.”

“So what’s one more?” Dean teases. He winks lavishly and puckers up, and Castiel laughs the way he wanted him to, his feathers ruffling along with his laugh. “Careful with your wings, I don’t want feathers in my burgers.”

“How long until they’re ready?” Castiel asks, taking a step back and away from the food.

“If you stop distracting me, it won’t be long.”

“And you’re making more crispy potatoes?” he asks, gesturing to the potatoes Dean’s peeled and is currently blanching.

“Something similar I think you’re gonna really like. French fries.”

“Well, you haven’t steered me wrong yet.”

“That’s the spirit,” Dean says happily. “Hey, you wanna help?”

“I would love to help,” Castiel beams. “What can I do?”

Dean hands him a spatula. “This is a spatula, or a flipper. When I turn the pan on, you can flip the burgers over from one side to the other so they don’t burn.”

A half hour later, Dean’s letting Castiel pick toppings for his burger, unable to keep the smile off of his face when Castiel exclaims over and over about all of the vegetables Dean has in his fridge. It takes a lot longer than he would’ve thought, but Cas ultimately decides on the works. He’s got lettuce, tomato, onion, cheese, bacon, and a bunch of pickles. Dean has the same, plus peppers, which Castiel weirdly refuses to try no matter how many times Dean asks.

They sit at the table, both with a beer, and Dean gets the pleasure of watching Castiel savor every bite of his food. He lavishes praise at Dean and scrapes his greasy fingers along the plate to soak up every last grain of salt.

Cas only gets half-way through his beer before Dean notices his face getting red and that Cas can’t get through a sentence without laughing, so Dean has to confiscate the rest and finish it off himself. Apparently, angels (or at least Cas) don’t have much tolerance for alcohol. He switches it out for water, and within an hour, he’s back to the dry-humored angel he’s starting to really like.

After they’ve cleaned up (Castiel is fascinated by the bubbles the dish soap makes and washes each dish much more vigorously than necessary just to make more) Dean pulls out his phone and plays Cas some of his favorite songs. Cas has heard singing before - apparently angels have their own version of lullabyes - but he’s never heard anything like Led Zeppelin, and to Dean’s delight, he _loves_ it.

They sit wrapped up together on the couch listening to music and talking for hours. Like before, Castiel’s skin is hot to the touch when they first snuggle up, but his temperature drops the longer they sit. Dean tells him why some of the songs are his favorite, and even admits to singing Ramble On in his head and sometimes out loud to put himself back to sleep after nightmares. Castiel asks to listen to that one twice more, which Dean indulges him with, and then they go on to talking about Dean’s family. He tells him how he lost his parents when he was a kid, and how he and Sam had been inseparable right until Sam left for school. Now he’s got a pregnant, live-in girlfriend that Dean hardly knows, and before the shooting, they hardly even talked at all. Things are getting better between them, but he still misses the way it used to be.

It’s late when Cas asks questions about the people he was ‘romantically involved with’ before, but he only gets through the story of his first girlfriend when Castiel asks him to stop.

“I thought I wanted to know, but I don’t,” he says firmly. “It makes me feel...”

“Jealous?” Dean supplies.

Castiel nods. “Yes, I think so. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I always skip out on the exes conversation if I can help it. I don’t like hearing it, either.”

“My instincts are screaming at me to mark you again,” Castiel confesses.

“You’re kinda possessive, you know that?” Dean chuckles, but he tilts his neck to the side. “How come it’s always my neck?”

“Your pulse is strongest there. When your heart beats it spreads the scent a tiny little bit.”

 _“Your_ scent,” Dean corrects, and Castiel hums his agreement against his skin as he marks both sides of his neck. “You’re starting to burn up again,” Dean tells him.

“I’m fine,” Castiel promises.

“Are you staying over tonight?” Dean asks, bringing up the subject of him leaving for the first time.

“I would like to, but I have to go back,” Castiel says sadly.

“Will you sleep with me for a little while first? Make my bed smell like you again before you go?” he taunts him with an eyebrow waggle.

“I never should have told you my weakness,” Castiel says with a fake sigh. Then his face cracks on a smile, his eyes warm and indulgent, like he’d never even dream of saying no to Dean. “I’d be very happy to lie with you until you fall asleep.”

A mixture of excitement and nerves rushes through him at the very idea of not going to bed alone for once. “K, stay here and I’ll brush my teeth and change, then I’ll call you in.”


	8. Chapter 8

Once he’s ready for bed, he hollers from the doorway of the bedroom and Cas comes in to join him, looking as red faced as he’s seen him so far. “You look like you’re about to keel over,” he says, worried. “Do you want some water or something?”

“Water might be good, yes. Thank you, Dean. I can get it. Just from the - the waterfall in the sink?” he asks, seeming to search for the right word.

One out of two isn’t bad, he thinks with a smile. “Or there are bottles in the fridge.”

He gets on the bed to rest his foot as Cas heads to the kitchen, rolling over to plug in his phone when he spots the pictures he had printed for Cas. They had these little plastic picture key chains at the counter when he went to go pick them up, and considering Cas doesn’t exactly have pockets, he was checking them out. The problem was that he printed 4x6s and these were made for wallet sized photos. Thankfully, the old guy working behind the counter said he could shrink and reprint them, so he ended up with the wallet sized plastic key chain after all. One side has the selfie Dean took on the mountain before he met Cas and the other side has the two of them together.

He’s holding it in his hand trying to convince himself not to feel weird about giving this to Cas when he comes back in just as red-faced as when he left with a half empty bottle of water.

“Any better?” Dean checks.

“A little bit,” Castiel says, avoiding his gaze. “Can I hold you?”

“I guess so,” he replies heavily, clearly joking, while he sits up a little bit to make room for Castiel’s wing. He’s barely been wrapped up for a second before he knows he’s never going to survive this particular inferno burrito with a long sleeved shirt on, so he sits up and pulls it over his head, then settles back in so they’re skin-to-skin.

Castiel nudges him over onto his side so that Dean’s back is to his chest and pulls him in until they’re flush, then lets out a low sound of satisfaction after he’s buried his face in his neck. “So much better,” he sighs. “We should always do this without your shirt on.”

Dean chuckles as he stares at the photo key chain in front of him and decides it’s now or never. “Know what else might make you feel better? I got you something.”

“You did?” Cas replies without moving his nose off of his neck.

“It’s not a big deal or anything, but I said I’d get you pictures, remember?”

“I thought you forgot about that.”

“Well, I didn't. Here, Cas,” he says, pressing it against the back of Cas’s hand where it’s currently resting on his chest. Cas shuffles awkwardly until he can see it without moving his head. Apparently, he’s not willing to let go of Dean or move his nose more than a centimeter away from his neck for even a second.

“Oh!” Castiel says happily. “This is perfect. It looks so real. Just like us.”

“Yeah,” Dean smiles. “That’s kinda the point. There’s uh, another one on the back of just me. Didn’t know if you wanted that, too, but -”

“I did,” Castiel says, already turning it over. “I do. Thank you, Dean. You’re very handsome,” he says, making Dean blush a little. “This makes me very happy.”

“Good. The plastic cover on it is supposed to make it waterproof, so you can get it wet or dirty or whatever and the picture won’t be damaged at all.”

“This is so thoughtful. Thank you. I’m sure I’ll look at it often.”

Dean’s feeling pretty damn good about his gift giving abilities when he notices Cas’s chest isn’t quite as hot as it was just a few minutes ago. “Is it just me, or are you starting to cool off again?”

“I am. Do you need your shirt back?”

“Nah, I’m still good. You’re still really warm.” Plus, it’s nicer like this, more intimate. It makes him wonder how long it will be until he can have this again. “When do you think you’ll be back?”

“I think what will keep me away might hit me faster than I anticipated after today.”

Additional worry burrows inside of him. “I wish you’d tell me what it is.”

“I know, but I can’t. I’ll fly over at night as frequently as possible while I still can, but usually there’s three days or so where I can’t leave my cave at all.”

Dean feels something he read yesterday click. “Woah, hang on a second. Are you molting?” Dean checks.

Castiel chuckles a little bit but says, “No, but that’s not a bad guess.”

“Damn.” He really thought he was onto him for a second there. He tries to think about what else might cause him to not be able to leave the cave, but that makes him wonder how he manages that at all. “Okay, so what do you do for food and water when you can’t leave the cave?”

“I stock up beforehand. You really don’t have to worry. I’ve been dealing with this alone for almost twenty years.”

“But being close to me helps, doesn’t it?” he ventures.

“It does, but it can also be dangerous for you, which is why I won’t risk coming directly to you.”

“Dangerous how? Would you make me sick, too?”

“No, nothing like that. And I’m not sick. It’s just not something I want to expose you to so quickly after we met. I’m not at my best.”

Cas has been more than understanding with everything he’s been dealing with, and he wants to do the same for him now that he has the chance, even if he has no idea what he's talking about right now. “You know I don’t care, right? Hell, I haven’t been at my best for months.”

“I care. You’ll just have to trust me that you shouldn’t be close to me right now.”

“Says the guy currently pressed up against me as close as he can get,” Dean mutters.

“I’m soaking it up while I can get it,” Castiel says, inhaling deeply as if to prove his point.

“Does my scent help, too?” Dean wonders.

“More than you’ll ever know.”

Wheels spinning, Dean offers, “Well, what if I send you back with something of mine? The shirt I was wearing today? I could rub it all over me and you could bring it back to your nest?” As soon as he suggests it, his face heats up as he remembers the day he left the cave and how he took off his t-shirt and tucked it into the side of the nest to hide the jizz all over it until he could tuck it into his bag... and how he completely forgot about it and left it there. “You already have my shirt, don’t you?”

Cas at least has the sense to sound sheepish on his behalf. “I didn’t mention it because I wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not.”

“Dude, I’m not just gonna leave a crusty t-shirt behind for you to deal with. God, that’s embarrassing,” he groans.

“Please don’t be embarrassed. Even if you didn't mean to leave it, it helped. After you wore it all day and night, and with...” Castiel lets his voice trail off, obviously not knowing the polite way to say _cum all over it,_  then picks up again. “Well, your scent was very strong. It helped a lot.”

He still feels like crawling into a hole and dying, but knowing that it helped (as weird as that is) eases some of his embarrassment. “That’s good I guess, but I still wouldn’t have left you that kind of mess on purpose." Getting back to the point, he asks, "Does it still smell like me or do you want a new one?”

“It still smells like you, but the more the better.”

“Well here then,” Dean says, grabbing the shirt he just pulled off and passing it back to Cas. “Take this with you.”

“Dean,” he sighs, his breath hot on the shell of his ear. His voice is abruptly serious when he keeps talking. “My whole life, nobody ever gave me a moment of kindness. Then you come along, and you’re so much nicer to me than I can even understand. You have no idea why I need your shirt, but you hand it to me with no questions asked.”

Dean turns over in his arms until they’re face to face and looks into his eyes, which are wide and somber. “You deserve to have somebody be kind to you for once. Why’s that make you so sad?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel admits, his eyes beginning to fill.

“Shhh,” Dean soothes him, doing the first thing he can think of and stretching his neck back so Cas can scent him. Cas follows his exposed neck like a magnet, planting his nose directly on his skin and breathing deeply. “It’s okay, Cas,” he says, stroking through his messy hair at the back of his head. “I know you’re going through something I don’t get. Maybe it’s just messing up your emotions some, huh?”

“Maybe,” Castiel chokes out.

He sounds _so_ sad, Dean does what he’d do with any partner and lowers his mouth to kiss the top of his head. He pauses once he’s done it, wondering if he crossed a line, but when Cas only pulls him closer, he does it again, then kisses his forehead, too. He’s desperate to help Cas feel better even though he doesn’t know what’s wrong, and so he kisses his temple next, and down further to his cheek. He wants so fucking bad to kiss him for real - to comfort him with one soft press of his lips after another until the only thing Cas can think of is him - but he doesn’t. The crisp scent of fresh air and the remnants of wood that always seems to draw him in is stronger than ever, and it has him closing his eyes in order to force away the urge to move even closer.

Instead, he thinks about what might make Cas feel better, and it comes to him in a second. He rolls back over so his back is to Castiel’s front and reaches for his alulae feathers, beginning to stroke them the same way he did when they were watching the sunset: all five at first, waiting for Castiel to relax behind him, and then one feather at a time, running the vanes between his fingers on each side before moving to the next.

“Better, yeah?” Dean checks, once Castiel’s breathing has evened out behind him.

“Much. You’re very attentive. Thank you,” he breathes into his skin. “You should sleep now though,” he says gently. Dean nods but feels an ache beginning to spread inside of him at the idea of Cas leaving him here all alone. “I’ll stay until you wake up with your first nightmare and help you get back to sleep, okay?”

This time it’s Dean who feels his eyes fill, not knowing until Cas said it how much he was dreading waking up and dealing with another nightmare by himself.

“Thanks, angel.”

“Sleep, Dean,” Castiel urges him again, and with his feathers threading through his fingers and Castiel warm against him, it doesn’t take long at all before he’s doing just that.

_“Hey! Let me see your hands!” Dean orders, his voice not nearly as steady as it should be._

_Castiel smiles and raises a gun up into the air. He’s wearing a grey flowing shirt and some kind of linen pants, making him look like a hippy or something with his too-long hair and uncharacteristically wide smile._

_He’s high, Dean realizes as his heart falls into his stomach. He feels bile rising to take its place, and he knows he’s going to vomit._

_“Drop the gun and get on the ground with your hands behind your back,” he croaks. He means to shout it, to sound demanding and powerful, but he can barely make his voice work._

_Cas is still pointing the gun in the air, and he smiles at Dean like he knows he’s never going to be able to shoot him. “Are you going to shoot me, Dean?”_

_“I don’t wanna shoot you, Cas,” Dean tells him, tears beginning to flood his vision. “But you need to put the gun down and get on the ground with your hands behind your back.”_

_Sam comes out of the Gas ‘n’ Sip with a tray of coffee in his hands, and Cas glances over at him before he whirls to face Dean again._

_“Drop the gun, Cas!” he yells, but instead, Cas starts to lower it and points it at Sam._

_“Dean?” Castiel asks, sounding concerned. He tilts his head in confusion and Dean blinks, trying to clear his head. “Dean, wake up,” Castiel urges him._

_Cas is still pointing the gun at Sam, and Dean doesn’t know what he’s talking about but he knows Cas is high and he’s about to shoot Sam and he has to stop him._

_“Drop -”_

_“Dean, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up.”_

Dean wakes to Castiel propped up on an elbow looking over him, one hand on his face with his thumb stroking his cheek bone. “There you are,” Cas says quietly. “Are you alright?”

Dean’s heart is pounding, but Cas woke him up this time before he shot anybody. Before he shot _him._ He raises his own hand to drag it down his face and nods. “You woke me up before it got bad,” he says roughly.

“Can I hold you?” Castiel checks, and Dean answers him by rolling over until he’s in Castiel’s nook with Castiel’s fingers in his hair and his arm wrapped around him. He melts into him instantly, any remaining panic from his dream giving way to the security and warmth Cas provides him with. “Feel better?”

“Feel safe,” Dean answers.

“You are,” Castiel replies, planting a kiss on the top of his head. Without thinking, Dean tips his head back and surges up to drop a line of kisses into the stubbled flesh under his jaw before nosing into the soft hair right behind his ear and kissing him there, too. With the scent of wood coming from Castiel coiling through the air and into his nostrils, he rests his head back on his shoulder and smiles when Cas’s wings surround him entirely, shutting out everything but them.

Dean’s eyelids are heavy, pulling him back into sleep, when he hears a whispered, “I’ll miss you.”

“Stay then,” Dean whispers back, his hand grasping onto the first thing he can find, which is feathers. He grabs on securely, winding his fingers through as many as he can to get a good hold so Cas can’t go, and smiles sleepily when he hears Cas groan with pleasure. “Mine.”

He gets another kiss to the top of the head for that, and Cas quietly agrees, “Yes, I am.”

He soaks up the happiness and warmth for what feels like several minutes, then he surprises even himself when he declares, “I‘m yours, too.”

Castiel pulls him in impossibly closer, squishing him against his body for several long seconds before letting up on the pressure without erasing the closeness. “I’ll be wishing I was here every second,” Castiel says quietly.

Dean hums, feeling a strange mixture of happy and sad, and the last thing he remembers before falling back asleep is a mumbled, “Me too.”

He wakes up on his stomach with Castiel’s secondary feather held loosely in his hand but without Cas. He rolls over to glance up at the window and sees it’s still dark out, but when he reaches out to touch Castiel’s side of the bed, it’s cold. So he’s been gone a while. He’s assuming Cas pulled the blankets up over him, and he also has a hoodie tucked under them with him which hadn’t been there before. He smiles when he thinks about Cas not wanting him to be cold, sitting up enough to shrug into the sweater before he rolls over again and follows his nose into the spot that smells the most like Cas before he falls back asleep.

Waking up for real without Cas turns out to be a hell of a lot worse than waking up with him. He grunts unhappily when he thinks about how nice it had felt to wake up surrounded by Castiel’s wings yesterday, and tugs the blankets more tightly back around him. He lies there, allowing himself a few minutes to wallow while he wakes up, then gets out of bed to start his day.

It seems quieter without the soft swish of Castiel’s feathers and strangely empty in the cabin considering Cas had only been there a day and he’s been here alone for a few weeks. He tries to shake it off, telling himself he’s being overly dramatic and he’ll get used to the quiet again once he stops moping. While he drinks his morning coffee outside, he thinks over everything that happened since yesterday morning.

He went from being at least a little iffy over Cas giving him a rock to show him how much he likes him to basically begging the angel not to leave, he thinks with an exasperated sigh aimed inwardly. He’s always fallen hard and fast, but this is a lot even for him. He’s known Cas for less than a week. They’ve spent what? Two days together? Three? And here he is making these grand promises to wait for him that he has every intention of keeping.

A part of him knows he’s being ridiculous. The chances of this thing working out between them when in some ways they live worlds apart is slim. But fuck it. He _likes_ having something good to look forward to again. So he’s gonna take what he can get while he can get it, and he’s going to do every damn thing in his power to make Cas happy enough when they’re together that he can carry the feeling back to his cave to hold him over until he can come back.

With that thought in mind, he gets ready for the day and settles in to do some more Googling. He’d skipped over the part about bird courting rituals when he was reading last time because it said they were different for each bird, but he feels like he should look into it now. Obviously Cas isn’t a bird, but maybe there are some similarities he can draw hints from to figure out what else Cas is going to get him to do before he’s allowed to say they’re officially dating.

The first article he comes across is about Emperor Penguins. He watches a video that shows how the males sing to attract the females, and once a female is interested, she bows, pointing her beak to the feet of the male penguin. If the male is also interested, he bows back the same way. Watching them bow to one another makes him think of Castiel’s wings and how they’ve done that bowing thing to him a couple of times now, and about how Cas got flustered as hell the first few times they did it. He has no idea if it’s the same thing, but he makes a mental note to bow back the next time Castiel’s wings do that to see his reaction. If it doesn’t mean anything he’ll just look like an idiot for a second, which, well - won’t be the first time.

Albatrosses start out the courting ritual by grooming each other, which makes Dean think about all the times Cas has his fingers in his hair. At first he thought it was a marking thing like his neck, but maybe it’s a little bit of both? It would make sense considering Cas said only family or mates groom one another’s wings. He did let Dean touch some of his feathers though, so maybe he can work his way up to more until he can really help him out. Or maybe he can ask for Cas to fix his hair or something to see how he responds? He wants Cas to have everything with him he could have with an angel, after all, and his hair is probably the closest thing texture-wise he has to feathers.

Then there are bowerbirds, which make these crazily complicated houses and decorate them with piles of dead beetles, shiny rocks, pieces of glass, and apparently even garlands of caterpillar droppings in order to attract their desired mate. Which obviously is freakin’ disgusting and something he’s pretty sure he’s not going to have to put up with from Cas, or at least not in that exact way. But it’s interesting to read about all of the different ways birds go above and beyond to attract a mate. He can’t believe he’s lived more than thirty years and had no idea birds were this complicated when it comes to finding a mate.

He watches a video of bald eagles who lock talons in the sky and do this crazy spiraling dance towards the ground, unlocking just before they hit. Again, hopefully not something angels do because he would absolutely barf his guts out. Flamingos have these weird parades before they pair off, snowbirds do a ballerina like dance that apparently strengthens pair bonds, and a species of ducks basically gang bangs a girl duck and she... forces out... the spunk of all of them except for the duck she wants the most.

Hard pass there too, Dean thinks wryly.

He finds there are a lot of birds who feed each other, with the overall theme being that the male proves he’s a good potential mate for the female by providing food. Dean thinks about the dandelions and how Cas had hoped that he would eat them as part of a meal and wonders if that’s what he was going for with that. Cas had also blushed pretty hard when Dean said he bought all of his favorite things for him to try and had offered to forage and cook for both of them instead even though they were at Dean’s house. Maybe that’s an angel thing.

He puts his phone down and lets his head fall back on the back of the couch so he can think.

If he’s got any of this stuff right, so far he knows Cas has wing bowed to him, scented him, and gave him a feather - which has gotta be significant even if he didn’t read about that being a bird thing. You don’t give a part of yourself to just anybody. Cas also brought him food and searched until he found him just the right rock. So going by everything he’s read so far, Cas is treating him like the girl in the relationship, which kinda makes him laugh because that’s not far from the truth where his position preferences go when he’s with a guy. But it almost makes him think that maybe he should be doing more to express his interest in bird-like/angel ways to Cas. He gave him that shirt and the photos, but that was human stuff, so maybe he should try something his way.

He thinks about it more while he puts around the house, tidying up a bit from yesterday while listening to music, when he ultimately comes to the decision that he’s gonna go search for a rock of his own for Cas after lunch. Cas had said it was his job to accept the gift, but he didn’t know what it meant at the time when he slipped it into his pocket. He does now, and Cas will obviously understand since he told him about it, so he’s gonna show Cas he’s serious about this by finding him the best damn rock out of them all and leaving it for him down at the dock.

He finds out pretty fast once he’s outside that this isn’t going to be easy. First of all, it’s awkward to go through the trail on his crutches to begin with, and secondly, it’s a bitch to keep bending over every two steps. That doesn’t mean he gives up, though, it just means that he grumbles and curses a lot while he does it.

He decides pretty fast that this whole thing is stupid, because almost all of the rocks just look like rocks. Completely unspectacular, boring, and nothing he’d ever give anybody as a gift, let alone Cas. For a long time, he carries a plain white rock around in his hand just because it’s different than all the other ones. He figures he could explain to Cas how it made him think of him because of how different he is, too, but he keeps searching anyway. It just doesn’t feel right.

White isn’t Cas.

The sun is setting, his armpits are sore again, and his fingers are fucking frozen by the time he kicks up a patch of rocks in frustration and sends what could be _the_ rock skittering across the path and into the trees. He just caught a glimpse of it, but it was black and didn’t seem to be in the gross-looking asphalt kind of way, so he goes in after it. He has to drop his crutches to support himself on a tree to be able to get close enough and dodge the branches over his head, and he winds up on his hands and knees lifting leaves and twigs out of the way until he finds it under one particularly large leaf.

He grabs it and rolls onto his ass, sitting up to dust the rock off and get a better look. It’s pretty caked in dirt on the one side, but he was right. It’s square shaped and a shiny black color, almost reminding him of black marble counter tops some people have. He feels a sense of accomplishment and smiles to himself. This is it.

Once he starts his way back, he realizes he’s stumbled further away from the cabin than he meant to, and considering how sore his armpits are, he’s already cursing a blue streak at his own stupidity when the shadows around him start growing and the temperature drops accordingly. It seems like it happens faster than should be possible. One minute he knows he’s gonna have to haul ass if he’s going to escape the path in the light, and the next it’s dark enough that he struggles to see where he’s going.

He’s fucking freezing, his hands quickly turning into what feels like two stiff, useless hunks of flesh that struggle to hold onto his crutches. It gets so bad that one point he has to ease himself down onto a boulder because he can’t stand the way they’re burning in the cold. He stuffs them up his shirt and under his (sore) armpits, hissing at the coldness while he leeches some of the warmth from his own body. He looks up for the moon, hoping it’ll come light some of the path for him and sees his own breath in the air.

No wonder he’s so fucking cold. And to think this was all to get a damn rock of all things. God, he was stupid. Rookie fucking mistake, he thinks bitterly. Once he feels like he can move his fingers again, he gets up and keeps moving, making better time now that he has control over all of his limbs. When he sees the lights from the cabin through the trees in front of him what feels like _hours_ later (but what is probably only minutes), he feels relief sink into his bones so strongly he almost falls over at the sight.

Finally, he crosses the threshold into his cabin and drags his frozen ass over to the closest seat in front of the fire to thaw out. First thing in the morning he’s going into town again and buying a good pair of gloves and a hat, and no matter what reason he comes up with, he’s not going into the woods again until he’s got two working feet. _Fuck_ his armpits hurt. He’s gonna have to get something for that, too, he thinks tiredly.

By the time he’s warm again, he’s exhausted. He grabs a frozen dinner, heats it up, and inhales it still plopped on the couch. Only when it’s finished does he pull the rock out of his pocket for a better look. He carries it and his dinner garbage to the kitchen and runs the rock under the tap to clean it off. Once it’s free of dirt, he dries it, and finally gets a good look at the whole thing. A black, shiny rock that reflects the light when he holds it just right. It’s different for sure, and the black reminds him of Cas because of his wings. He knows Cas doesn’t love his wings, but he does, and he hopes Cas can believe that a little easier after he gets it.

Which reminds him he should leave it on the dock. He considers leaving it for the next day, thinking there’s a really slim chance that Cas would fly back over here tonight after just leaving in the morning, but he talks himself out of it. He wants Cas to know he’s been thinking of him today. So he puts on another layer of warm clothes, stuffs a dish towel under each armpit for extra cushioning, and makes his way down the steep hill towards the dock.

The air is colder than ever down here thanks to the breeze coming off of the lake, so he doesn’t waste any time leaving the rock on the arm of the chair. It’s big enough that he’s pretty sure it won’t blow away, so after one last look, he goes back inside to watch a movie before he calls it a night and burrows under his blankets.

He falls asleep with his head on Castiel’s side of the bed with the secondary feather in his hand, knowing he’s not nearly as warm as he would be if Cas was here.

When he wakes up the first time, he’s confused because Cas is tucked around him, surrounding him in wings and strong arms.

“Cas?” he murmurs unintelligibly, trying to blink sleep out of his eyes.

“I got your gift, you wonderful, wonderful man,” Castiel whispers, nosing along his neck. “It’s beautiful and perfect, and I accept wholeheartedly.”

“Almost died in the forest for that y’know,” he mumbles sleepily, pulling his arms around him even tighter.

“Dean,” Castiel hisses into his ear. “You have to be careful!”

“‘m good now. Y-you-” He has to wait to finish a yawn, then says, “You feelin’ better?”

“Better with you,” Castiel answers. “Go back to sleep.”

“Stay.”

“I can’t,” Castiel whispers, sounding pained. “But I will until the last possible moment.”

Dean turns his head enough to plant a chaste kiss under his chin and falls asleep again with the happy sound Castiel made in his ears.

By the time he gets out of bed the next morning, he’s convinced himself he dreamed the whole thing. Sure, his bed smells more like Cas now than it did when he fell asleep, but the chances of Cas coming back so quickly when he said he probably wouldn’t be able to for a while aren’t good. He must have had some kind of hypothermia induced dream or something, he decides. Cas wasn’t there when he woke up with two nightmares, there’s no way he was there some other time.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t go down to the dock as soon as he’s done with his coffee, though. The rock is gone, which makes his heart skip a beat or two before he can stop it. He fights his smile away and tells himself that just because Cas was here didn’t mean he came inside, and that’s when he hears a slapping noise. He turns his head, searching for the sound, and sees a decently sized boulder on the edge of the dock that wasn’t there before. Curious, he approaches it to find a net attached, hanging off into the water.

He gets down on his knees for stability, then he grabs the net to pull it towards the surface where he sees a big ass fish inside. He hasn’t fished in _years,_ but judging by the shape of this one, it’s some kind of trout. It’s about twice the length of his hand and a fat sucker, flopping around like crazy. He’s pretty sure Cas left it for him to eat. He hasn’t had fish since he’s been out here and the thought of it grilled out on the barbecue sounds delicious, so he hauls the fish up to his cabin to clean it out. Once he’s filleted the fish, he puts it in the fridge and gets himself ready for the day.

On the way into town to pick up a hat and gloves, he starts thinking about what he could get for Cas to reciprocate for the fish. Considering how much he’d loved the orange juice, he decides to get him a bag of clementines and leaves those out at the dock before he goes to bed that night.

They’re still there when he wakes up Wednesday morning.

Cas did say there would be some days he wouldn’t be able to come at all, but that doesn’t stop the itch of worry he feels all that day. He finds out that morning in the shower that he can put pressure on his foot without wanting to die when he slips in the shower and catches himself on it before he falls. It’s not super comfortable, but it’s much better than when it made him feel like he was going to pass out. It makes using one crutch around the house much easier, and he foregoes the crutch all together by the end of the day.

The clementines are still sitting there Thursday morning when he wakes up to the rain, and by Friday when Cas still hasn’t come, Dean’s officially worried. He’s torn between knowing logically that Cas told him there might be a period of time where he couldn’t come, and throwing all logic out the window because he can’t stop thinking about something bad happening to him. How does he know if he’s holed up in his cave because of whatever the hell’s going on with him, or if something else is wrong? Maybe his wings got fucked up when it rained and he can’t fly? What if he’s stuck in the cave and can’t get to him because of that?

He drives himself crazy over it all day Friday, twice as much on Saturday when those damn clementines are still sitting on the chair mocking him, and by Saturday night, he’s got a bag packed to go after him if he doesn’t come that night.

Sunday morning, he grabs the clementines from the dock, stuffs them in his bag, and drives Baby around to where he parked her last time. He can walk pretty well on his bad foot now, but he starts his hike to the cave off by using the crutches so it doesn’t get too sore before he gets there. It was about a two hour walk the first time, but he figures it will be closer to three hours this time around since he’s slower with the crutches. He recognizes the boulder he had to stop at on the way home last time and breaks there for a few minutes, popping a few painkillers in anticipation of his foot being sore before it even starts. This isn’t the smartest thing he’s ever done, but he’s overprotective by nature and without any way to contact Cas to make sure he’s okay, this is the only option he has left. It’s too bad he’s halfway to the cave when he thinks about how he should’ve got Cas a burner phone. Even just a nightly text would ease his worry. He’ll see if Cas will be open to that when he gets there and then maybe he can buy him one the next time he goes to town.

His face is freezing in the cold mountain air, but thanks to his hat and gloves, that’s his only complaint as he makes his way to the cave. It’s slow going compared to his usual hiking pace, but he’s doing loads better than when he used the crutch Cas made him last time. With the four layers he’s currently wearing, his armpits aren’t even that sore. He knows they will be by the time he walks back home, but he’ll deal with that when the time comes. He’s feeling uncharacteristically optimistic knowing that he’s less than a half hour away from seeing Cas again.

He just about trips over his own feet when he hears a _whoosh_ and the sound of feet landing on the path in front of him. He has a smile on his face in anticipation of seeing Cas, but when he looks up it’s actually a small angel he hasn’t seen before. He has white wings with a bunch of gold threaded through them and his arms folded across his chest, but what surprises Dean the most is that the angel’s wearing _jeans._

“Uh, hi,” Dean tries, offering him a shy smile.

The guy cocks his head to the side so much like Cas that he feels his forced smile turn into something more genuine.

 _“Hi?”_ the small angel repeats, sounding surprised. “Aren’t you supposed to be all dramatic about how there’s an incredibly good-looking man with breathtaking golden wings in front of you?”

Dean considers that for a minute, torn between telling him he’s not the first (or most gorgeous) angel he’s seen and not wanting to get Cas in trouble.

“Aren’t you not supposed to talk to humans?” Dean decides to go with.

“Oh ho!” the angel says excitedly, his face splitting on a shit-eating grin. “Which of my garrison broke the rules before me and let you in on _that_ little secret, hm?” he asks. When Dean opens his mouth to lie, he stops him with, “No wait! Don’t tell me! This is the most interesting thing that’s happened around here in _years._ Let me guess.” Barely a second later, he says, “It was Anna, right? Got one look at that pretty face of yours and threw the rules and that useless excuse of a mate right out the proverbial window. I’m right, right?”

“I don’t know who Anna is,” Dean says truthfully.

“Okay, okay, wait,” he says as he taps a single finger to his lips until his face lights up with his next guess. “Hannah, then! She’s gullible. Did you charm your way past your defenses? I can see that.” Dean shakes his head in response, wondering if these angels have been dicks to Cas and if he _should_ try getting them in trouble instead of him. “Okay, last guess.” His wings fold up behind his back, glinting gold as he paces back and forth in front of Dean, clearly thinking. He stops, eyes going bright with discovery as he snaps his fingers and points at Dean. “It was Balthazar! Oh, I can’t believe I didn’t go for him first! Nobody’s as shameless as he is, and _that’s_ saying something, believe me!”

Dean doesn’t know what to say without getting Cas in trouble, so just stays silent.

“Not gonna spill the beans on your angel buddy, huh? I can respect that,” the little angel says, nodding his approval. “You’re never gonna make it to Balthy’s nest on those crutches, though. Especially not if somebody else smells you first.”

“I’m not going to Balthy’s,” Dean tells him. “Just goin’ for a walk. Looking for a golden eagle. I’m a birdwatcher.”

The little guy tilts his head again, eyes glittering with mischief. “Oh, really? Where’s your binoculars?”

“You know what binoculars are?” Dean asks, surprised.

The little guy doesn’t get to answer, though, because just then, there’s another _whoosh_ and then Dean can’t see anything except for huge black wings in front of him.

“Get away from him, Gabriel,” Castiel growls, his wings expanding to larger than Dean’s ever seen them, looking sharp and hard.

“Ho-ly shit!” Gabriel exclaims. “I _never_ would’ve guessed you, Cassie! I thought he was here to see Anna or Balthazar.”

Castiel’s wings draw up even higher, fanning out so much they appear to be twice the size they were a second ago, and he makes that weird hissing sound he scared Dean out of the cave with as he steps forwards.

Dean ducks around his wings so he can see the little guy, Gabriel, with his hands held up in surrender and his wings lowered to the ground. “Take a breath, bro. You don’t have to go wild goose on me.”

“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean interjects. “He wasn’t trying to hurt me.”

“You shouldn’t even be here!” Castiel barks without even looking at him.

“Well excuse me for being worried about you,” Dean says sarcastically.

“Aw, Castiel got himself his first friend,” Gabriel coos.

“Shut up, dick wad,” Dean interjects, not at all willing to stand here and let some little guy be mean to Cas right in front of him.

To his surprise, the little guy laughs. “I like him, Castiel.”

“He’s _mine_ and I _will_ challenge you for him,” Castiel growls again.  

Dean’s not really wanting to see an angel-on-angel fight here, so he tries to calm Cas down. “Cas, buddy, take a chill pill, okay?” Dean says, reaching out to touch his shoulder. His skin is hotter than he’s ever felt it, and he hears Castiel make a low sound in his throat before he takes a step backwards, closer to him, and lifts one of his wings. Dean takes the silent invitation and steps forwards until he’s next to Cas with his wing wrapped around him protectively.

“Castiel, come on, man. A human?” Gabriel asks, completely serious now. “What are you doing?”

“We’re friends,” Dean says, trying to help Cas out.

Gabriel laughs again, his feathers shaking with it. “Yeah, because angels _definitely_ let friends that close to their wings,” he chuckles. “Wait, is that what you told him, Castiel? You dog!”

Dean looks at Cas questioningly, but Castiel looks directly at Gabriel and says, “That’s none of your business.”

Gabriel chuckles again. “Well, you two have fun. Try to keep it in your nest though, because a scent as good as his is going to spread faster than a hooker’s legs,” Gabriel says, closing his eyes to breathe in deeply.

Castiel lunges forwards, hissing again as his one wing shields Dean completely. He hears a scuffle, hears Gabriel say, “Hey! Ow! What the fuck, Castiel? _Take a fucking chill pill!”_ before another _whoosh_ and Gabriel’s suddenly in the air, batting his wings and looking down at both of them.

Castiel moves between Gabriel and Dean, crouched in a defensive stance with his wings curling back around Dean.

“I’m not going to hold that against you because I know it’s your first mating season and you’ve obviously lost your fucking marbles,” Gabriel says, but he looks pissed. “But don’t expect me to cover for you when the others start sniffing around. Hope he’s it, Castiel.”

Then he bats his wings again and disappears, sending a blizzard of tiny feathers spiraling into the air.

Castiel’s arms come around him almost as fast as his wings, and he works on scenting him frantically, all while mumbling angrily under his breath. “You are so _stupid,”_ Cas complains as he rubs his face along his neck one side at a time. “You stubborn, irresponsible, foolish man.”

Dean lets his arms wind around his middle, baring his neck for more as Cas keeps rubbing himself all over him, still muttering under his breath. “I missed you, too,” Dean tells him.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Castiel says again. “You could have been killed!”

“By chicken wings?” Dean scoffs. “He wasn’t gonna hurt me ‘til you came here and started acting like some kinda territorial wild animal.”

“I _am_ a territorial wild animal,” Castiel tells him, scooping him up in his arms without even asking.

He sees white and gold feathers scattered over the ground while they walk and he looks Cas in the face. “Did you rip his feathers out?”

“I was protecting you,” Castiel answers, which is a yes even if he didn’t say it. “And not the important feathers.”

“Still kind of a dick move,” Dean mumbles.

“You could have been taken, injured, _killed._ _”_

“Well I guess now you know how I felt when you ghosted me for the last five days.”

“I told you that could happen!”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t worry!” Dean exclaims, a little louder than he meant to. Now irritated with the entire situation and most of all by how Cas doesn’t seem to give a shit that he’s even here, he says, “I know you’re fine now, though, so you can just put my ass down and I can go back home since you obviously don’t give a shit about seeing me.”

“You are so incredibly stupid,” Castiel mutters again, tightening his hold on him.

“Yeah, guess it was pretty damn stupid to think you might actually be happy to see me,” Dean tells him with a bitter snort, trying to hide the hurt that’s been simmering since the very first _you shouldn’t be here._

Castiel’s voice is softer when he says, “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m just worried about your safety. I’ll breathe easier once we’re inside.”

There’s a few minutes of silence while Cas makes his way to the cave, and Dean uses that time to stew about what he said before he decides to offer him an out. “If I overreacted and came here when you just wanted some space or something I can go back home and I won’t be mad or anything.”

“No,” Castiel simply, both shutting him up and leaving him in limbo with how he should be feeling right now.

Neither of them say another word until Dean sees the cave. Castiel carries him inside, deep enough that when he places him on the ground he can stand straight up, and then his bag is being pushed off of his shoulders taking his gloves with it, his crutches are dropped to the ground, and Castiel has him pressed up against the cave wall with his wings cushioning his body. His nose presses to his pulse point and he breathes in deeply several times while he plasters his body against his, leaving no room between them and making it impossible for Dean to miss the way Castiel’s dick definitely isn’t soft.  

Dean’s hands landed on his chest when he was pushed against the wall, and he lets them drift across his pecs and up to either side of his neck where he grips at his shoulders, trying not to let his body react to their closeness and the hard muscle of Castiel’s body beneath his palms.

 _“Dean,”_ Castiel says, his voice rough but his tone soft and affectionate. “I missed you so much.”

Dean smiles, happier now that he’s getting the kind of greeting he was hoping for. “That’s more like it,” he responds. “Christ, you’re warm.”

“Are you cold?”

“My face is pretty cold, yeah.”

“Here,” Castiel says, tugging his face to his chest.

Dean huffs out a breath while Castiel’s warmer body temperature heats his face, then turns to the other cheek to warm that one, too. He can’t help but notice the way Castiel’s nipples are hard considering his face is right there, and he feels kinda bad.

“Now I’m making you cold,” he says.

“Believe me, the cooler temperature of your skin is a big relief.”

“You’re hotter than you were before,” Dean comments.

“Are you speaking about my body temperature or my level of attractiveness?” Castiel asks.

Dean laughs lightly and forces him away enough to look at his face. He cups his cheeks with both hands, feeling his skin burning under them. “Both,” Dean grins. “The red face is a little much, but your hair looks messier than ever and it’s a good look on you.”

Cas is nuzzling into his palm, moving his head around so Dean’s hands are all over his face, smiling softly with his eyes closed while he takes one deep breath after another.

“You look drunk on my scent,” Dean says on a bit of a laugh.

“That’s not far from the truth,” Castiel admits. “Can we lie down for a little while? I need you in my nest.”

Dean feels butterflies in his stomach at the way that sounds. “You gonna carry me?”

“Absolutely,” Castiel says, not even sparing a second to lift him the way he usually does. This time, he hauls him up by the backs of his thighs and Dean has no choice but to wrap his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist. Dean’s stomach swoops when he thinks about just how strong Cas is to be able to lift him like this, and when he realizes that he’s carrying him to bed with a boner nudging against his ass. Just to drive Cas a little crazy, he leans in to nuzzle his nose behind his ear, feeling the ends of his hair tickle on the exhale and Castiel’s grip tighten on the backs of his legs at the same time goosebumps pop up on his skin.

He gets a quick glance at the nest, immediately endeared by the new additions to his decor: both of his t-shirts are laid down in Castiel’s nest on top of his nest pillow and the picture key chain is hanging from a branch by where his head goes. Remembering how Cas reacted to him adding his sweater to his nest that first night, he decides not to comment on how he’s currently being laid down on his own t-shirt.

Castiel climbs in after him and once again plasters himself to Dean’s back with his bulge nestled closely to the cleft of his ass, which reminds him...

“What was Gabriel talking about when he said it was your first mating season?”


	9. Chapter 9

He can actually hear how hard Castiel swallows behind him. “He just assumed that because I allowed you to get this close to me right now that we’d be mating.”

“Because it’s mating season?” Dean repeats. He knows he probably sounds like an idiot but he wants clarification on what that means exactly. And how is this Castiel’s first?

“You don’t need to worry about that. It’s not your concern.”

“It’s my concern if it concerns you,” he disagrees, but Cas doesn’t say anything in reply. He tries to wait him out but only lasts a few seconds before asking, “Is that what’s been going on with you?”

“It’s an instinct I sometimes have a hard time controlling,” Castiel admits. Dean's able to wait him out for longer this time, and after a quiet sigh, Castiel continues. “It gets increasingly more difficult near the end of autumn. Before the snow comes, there’s usually a period of a week or so when all angels can think about is creating offspring.”

Knowing that he and Cas aren’t about to create _offspring,_ he feels a pang of anxiety and even misplaced jealousy over the idea of Cas’s instincts wanting him to be with somebody who can give him angel babies. “Listen, I’m pretty chill when it comes to jealousy, but if this is you trying to tell me you’re gonna lose it and go try and fuck any girl angel who’ll have your babies because of some angel instincts you can’t control, I am not gonna be okay with that.”

“No! Of course not!” Castiel exclaims, rolling him over until they’re face to face. “Dean, I’m here _with you_ in my nest at the onset of mating season, not another angel.”

“So even if some girl angel came in here batting her wings all seductively -”

“You are the only person I would ever even consider allowing in my cave right now. In fact, you’re the only person I’ve ever shared a mating season with, even if we’re not technically mating." So _that’s_ why it’s his first mating season, Dean realizes. “Not that it seems to matter,” Cas says with a small huff of laughter. “The fact is, we’re not bonded or mates or even officially courting yet, but my body’s already entirely attuned to _you.”_

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you are the only thing I want right now,” Castiel says, reaching out to run his hand through Dean’s hair. “The scent of your arousal is what causes my mating instincts to kick in more than anything else, and being close to you eases the stress of my body being forced to do what nature wants me to do.”

“That why you get all hot when we’re not close to one another?”

Castiel looks at him with warmth in his eyes, like he’s proud he figured that out or something. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“I didn’t get why you got so hot every now and then, but I noticed that being close to me cooled you down, and skin helped the most." He glances down at himself and asks, "Which probably means I should ditch some of these layers, huh?”

“I don’t want you to get cold,” Castiel protests weakly, but he saw the flash of excitement in his eyes before he could hide it.

“With you this hot, it ain’t gonna happen, trust me. And it’s not like I can’t put it back on if it does.”

“Then yes, please. I’m dying to be closer to you,” Castiel confesses.

Dean sits up to pull off his hat, jacket, and heavy flannel. That leaves him in a long sleeve shirt, which he also takes off, and now he’s down to a t-shirt. “Want me to take this off too?”

Castiel’s wings quiver, but he says, “You don’t have to.”

“Which means yes,” Dean says for him, tugging it up over his head. The cool air of the cave hits him fast, sending him into a full body shiver before Castiel manhandles him into position until they’re spooning again. “You’re kinda bossy today, you know,” Dean says lightly.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says quickly. “If I do anything - anything at all - that you’re not comfortable with, please tell me immediately and I’ll stop. I’m okay right now, but there will be times when my instincts take over completely, and while I’d like to believe I’d never do anything to make you feel anything other than entirely comfortable... I just don’t know if that will be the case.”

Dean _highly_ doubts that. “You’re seriously worried about that?”

“I’ve never been alone with anybody during mating season. I don’t know how I’m going to react.”

“Well, I have a lot more faith in you than you do. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I’m less concerned about physically hurting you than I am about being inappropriately sexual,” he corrects quietly.

And suddenly the last seven days of no visits from Cas makes sense. “Is that why you didn’t want to see me?” Castiel nods his head behind him, and Dean turns over again to see his face. He looks _so sad,_ ashamed even, and he hasn’t even done anything wrong! “Cas, come on, you haven’t.” Cas opens his mouth to disagree but Dean stops him with a finger to his lips. “I was on board with everything that’s happened between us so far. Hell, if you hadn't stopped when we woke up in this nest that day or when your feathers were all over me, I would’ve been fine with that, too.”

“That’s the complete opposite of helpful right now,” Castiel tells him begrudgingly, moving his hand away from his face. Dean notices that he’s already cooled off enough so that he can see a blush on his cheeks instead of his entire face being red.

“I’m just saying. There’s probably not a whole lot you could try with me that I’d think was inappropriately sexual,” he says, giving him most inviting smile.

Castiel’s eyes flicker with heat. “I appreciate what you’re saying, but I’m not even ready to kiss you yet, regardless of how difficult it is to resist you when you keep looking at me like that,” Castiel teases, tapping Dean’s nose with a single finger.

Dean laughs and bats him away when he tries to do it again. “So you’re just gonna use my body to calm yourself down while you can, then go jerk off outside when you can’t?”

Castiel’s eyes pop open wide, and he has to clear his throat before he seems able to speak. “You - you knew that, um, what I was doing when I went outside?”

Dean snorts with laughter before he replies, “Well, yeah. If you were trying to be subtle you were really bad at it, angel.”

“Why do you keep calling me that? Angel?”

Now it’s Dean who blushes a little, wondering if that was a really good change of subject on Cas’s part or if he’s just suddenly curious. “Why, does it bug you?”

“Well, how would you feel if I kept calling you _human?”_

“Okay, that would be weird, but we already use angel as an endearment. It means something innocent and good, kind of like sweetheart,” Dean explains.

Castiel’s feathers fluff up and he gets an adorably shy smile on his face. “Oh. I suppose I don’t mind that, then.”

“Yeah, I can see that, fluffy,” Dean quips, reaching out to smooth his fingers over the alulae of the wing draping over him. They spread for him immediately, and now it’s him who’s smiling while he slots them between his fingers, feeling something inside of him calm at the sensation. “As much as I love sleeping with that feather of yours every night, it ain’t got nothin’ on this.”

“That makes me very happy.” He takes a huge breath and exhales softly. “You have no idea how good this feels.”

“Tell me,” Dean says, curious.

Castiel hums quietly as his eyelids drift closed. “It kind of feels like when your fingers are in my hair, but my wings are so much more a part of me that it’s easily a hundred times more pleasurable.”

“I feel like putty when your hands are in my hair, so it’s no wonder you turn into a big sap when I touch them,” Dean says, smiling fondly at the look of pure bliss on Castiel’s face. “Hey, is this gonna get you all turned on again?”

“Probably,” Castiel admits, opening his eyes to show him how they’re shining with amusement.

“But it’s worth it?”

“Absolutely,” he grins. “I do have to tell you, though, I won’t be able to go outside to take care of any... instincts... that might arise.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up at that. “You gonna put on a show for me?”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Castiel says dryly, making Dean laugh.

“Well it’s not that big of a cave,” Dean reminds him. “I’m gonna know what you’re doing and it’s gonna make me wanna do the same thing.”

Castiel breathes in once sharply, and responds, “I’m not about to tell you what you can and cannot do with your own body, but I simply can’t go outside, Dean. If I get too close to a mated angel and they can scent my arousal they might think I’m trying to entice their mate, and they’d likely try to fight me.”

“Like you fought Gabriel?”

“That was hardly a fight,” Castiel says haughtily.

“‘Cause you’re so big and strong?” Dean says sarcastically.

Castiel only smiles proudly. “I am much stronger than him, but I meant because neither of us wanted to hurt each other. I just needed him to get away from you.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. So nobody else is allowed to smell me now?”

“No, they’re not,” Castiel says firmly. “Not angels anyway. I know this isn’t something you understand, but it’s a blatant act of aggression to even attempt to take in an angel’s scent the way Gabriel did with you.”

“I’m not an angel,” Dean reminds him.

“But he knew what it meant anyway. It was like he was spitting in my face and had it been anybody _but_ Gabriel I would have torn him to pieces.” His voice has dropped an octave and there’s a fierceness etched into his features Dean wants to erase immediately.

“Alright, alright, take a chill pill. I can live with nobody else getting up close and personal with my scent,” he decides with a shrug. He tries to subtly shift their conversation to something that will both remind Cas that he’s still interested in getting to know him better and something that might calm him down. “Especially since this is all serious now that we’ve exchanged rocks and stuff.”

He chose wisely because Castiel brightens immediately. “You can’t possibly know how happy I was when I saw that rock and knew you understood what giving it to me meant.”

“Good,” Dean says sincerely. “You deserve some happiness for once. You would’ve killed me if you saw what I had to do to get it though,” he smirks.

“Unless you’d like to be encircled in my wings every second of every day for the rest of mating season, I suggest you keep your crazier exploits to yourself.”

That was exactly the reaction he expected, and his lips turn up into a small smile knowing that he knows Cas that well already. Now he just has to talk himself outta this. “I can walk now without my crutches, so that wouldn’t happen again anyway. And by the way, threatening me with your wings doesn’t really work since I’m kinda obsessed with them. I actually picked that rock ‘cause it reminded me of them, you know.”

“My wings are nothing like that rock. They’re dull and ugly, not shiny and beautiful.”

“Nuh uh,” Dean disagrees. “Your alula feathers are shiny, and so are most of the other ones inside. And they’re so soft and warm. I love ‘em.”

Castiel shifts his wings until his alula feathers brush his cheek softly. “You make me feel very good about myself. How did I ever manage to stay away from you for six days?”

“Seven days,” Dean corrects, tilting his head side to side to let the feathers brush over more of his skin.

“No, it has only been six days since I last left you in your bed.”

Dean exhales happily, smiling when the feathers tickle his nose. “Thought I dreamed that.”

“Do you often dream about me climbing into your nest in the middle of the night?” Castiel teases, leaning down to nuzzle his lips into his exposed chin in another not-kiss that has his heart leaping in his chest.

“You have no idea,” Dean teases back, his voice sounding a little breathy thanks to Cas’s lips and feathers tormenting him. His fingers tighten on his feathers when he feels the scrape of Castiel’s stubble on his jaw. “Wish you’d just kiss me already,” Dean grumbles, knowing full well he’s not about to get his wish.

To his surprise though, he feels Castiel’s lips brush the bolt of his jaw and a shock of desire shoots straight to his dick.

“I’ve never done that before,” Castiel admits quietly.

“Felt amazing,” Dean says softly. Then, after recovering, he adds, “You know, if you wanted to keep doing it over every inch of my body for practice, I guess I could put up with it.”

“You really are a terrible influence,” Castiel tells him, but he’d swear he can feel his lips curve into a smile against his skin.

“Nowhere close to how bad I wanna be, trust me.”

Castiel sighs heavily before he says, “Okay, get up before I let you convince me to break any more rules.”

Dean sighs but sits up, immediately putting on his long-sleeve shirt and earning himself a pout from Cas. “Hey, if I can’t have everything, neither can you,” Dean says with a wink.

Castiel reaches over and grabs his discarded t-shirt. “I’m keeping this, then.”

“Gonna add it to your Shrine of Dean?” he asks, glancing down to his other two shirts beneath them.

“You sleep with my feather in your nest. This is no more strange than that,” he says defensively, his wings twitching.

Dean doesn’t buy that explanation for a second but goes with it and nods anyway. Castiel’s wing settles along his back with his alulas tickling the back of his neck, and Dean finally gets to ask where he’s been the last six days.

“So have you been holed up in the cave for days like you said you might be, or has that part not hit yet?”

“Hasn’t hit yet, but I thought I was close a few times which is why I didn’t fly to your cabin.”

“It’s too bad, because you missed out on a little surprise I bought for you to say thanks for that fish. It was delicious, by the way.”

“What kind of surprise?” Castiel asks eagerly, ignoring the rest of what he said.

“Hmmm,” Dean says, dragging out the moment. “I might be persuaded to give it to you now.”

“Persuaded how?”

“I dunno, what’re you willing to do for me, Cas?” Dean grins, bouncing his eyebrows suggestively.

Castiel shakes his head slightly, looking away with a tiny smile on his lips. “I hope you know you drive me crazy.”

Dean laughs, pleased by that reaction. “Sounds like my job here is done.”

“I should just fly over to your bag and get it myself,” he says, his wings twitching. “It would teach you not to mess with the superior species.”

“Superior species, my ass,” Dean chuckles, giving him a little push. “All I wanted was to see if you’d help me fix my hair.”

Castiel’s head snaps to the side, his eyes slightly wider than they were before as he makes direct eye contact with Dean. “Your hair? Why?”

 _Bingo._ “Well I’m guessing it’s kinda all over the place from my hat, and I can’t see it myself, so it made sense to ask you. I trust you to fix that kinda thing for me, you know,” Dean says, pouring it on a little thick, hoping that Cas gets the message that it’s an invitation to groom him.

“You want my help with, well, human hygiene? Grooming?” he asks slightly breathless, and Dean gives himself a mental pat on the back for being a goddamn genius.

“If you’re comfortable with that. I know it’s a big step.”

“H-how do you know that?”

“A shot in the dark,” he lies. Seeing how nervous this has made Cas has him second guessing his offer, though. “If you don’t want to -”

“I want to,” Castiel says steadily.

“Awesome,” Dean answers, shuffling a little bit closer and dipping his head for him.

“Just like you usually wear it?” Castiel asks, already brushing his fingers through the longer strands of hair at the front like some kinda stylist or something.

“That’d be great.”

Castiel’s deft fingers pat the shorter strands into order on the sides first, then run through the front, pushing his hair to the side the way Dean likes to style it and urging the strands to stand. Castiel’s wings get fluffier and fluffier as he goes, and by the time he nods and lowers his hands, his wings are as puffed up as Dean’s ever seen them.

“There,” Castiel says proudly.

Dean lifts a hand to pat at it gently, noting that it feels exactly the same way it would if he’d done it himself and smiles happily. “Feels great, Cas. Thanks for helping me.”

“I’m honored,” Castiel says sincerely.

“Anytime you want me to return the favor with some of the feathers you can’t reach, just let me know,” Dean tells him. “But until then, I think you earned yourself a little thank you.”

“I’ll get your bag for you, then,” Castiel offers, hopping up and hurrying over to where his bag fell on the cave floor before Dean can even begin to offer to get it himself.

“Thanks.” Dean reaches out for it and opens it up, pulling out the bag of clementines that’d been sitting on the deck since Wednesday. “I know you loved the orange juice, so I thought you’d like these.”

Castiel smiles wide and takes the bag from Dean’s hands. “You got me oranges?”

“They’re actually clementines, but pretty much the same thing. Just easier to eat.”

“That’s so thoughtful,” Castiel says, smiling softly.

“You started it with the fish. Figured if you were gonna provide for me than I should do the same for you.” Before Cas can respond, he says, “I actually brought some meat for dinner later, too, if you let me stay that long.”

“You can stay however long you want to,” Castiel says. “But you don’t need to provide for me. I can provide for us both.”

“Or we can provide for each other. Share the work.”

Castiel bites down on his bottom lip. “That’s quite unusual.”

“So’s a human and an angel shacking up in a cave during mating season. And usually not both people do the rock thing, right?”

“That’s true.”

“So like you said about the whole pair bond flying dance - maybe we do this our own way?” Dean suggests.

Castiel’s eyebrows scrunch together for a few seconds before they smooth out and Castiel nods. “I think that’s a good idea. Would you like a clementine?”

“Sure, why not.” It turns out Castiel has never eaten an orange, so Dean has to show him how to peel it and pull it apart.

“These aren’t going to last very long,” Castiel tells him after he’s finished one and immediately starts peeling another. "They're delicious."

“Lots more where that came from,” Dean promises. He also pulls the small cast iron pan he’d managed to find him out of the bag, and tells him that he brought frozen chunks of beef, thinking they could fry it up with some of the vegetables Cas has for dinner. Cas is pleased by the idea of both of them contributing to the meal and excited to figure out how to use the pan on the fire.

Considering it’s not quite noon yet and Cas doesn’t want to leave the cave any more than necessary, they spend most of the day curled up together in Castiel’s nest, talking. With nothing else to do, Dean ends up talking more about himself, his family, and everything _but_ the shooting more than he can remember talking in years. Castiel doesn’t have much to tell, but by mid-afternoon, Dean learns that his parents still live in the area but they don’t see each other often.

“Why not?” Dean wonders. You’d think if Cas was dying of loneliness that his parents would check in and help him with his wings.

“Once angels come of age, they’re expected to be self-sufficient. It would be an embarrassment to the parenting skills of an angel if their offspring wasn’t able to take care of themselves at that point. Isn’t it the same for humans?”

“Not really,” Dean answers. “There’s no set age that kids move out of their parents home, and a lot of times, they move out and then move back in. Even if they don’t, most people still spend time with their parents regularly, especially if they live in the same place.”

“That would be nice,” Castiel comments. “I wouldn’t be as lonely if I could speak with them more often.”

“I can’t get over that you have your parents within walking distance and they’d choose for you to be stuck on the ground over helping you with your wings,” Dean tells him. “I can’t wrap my brain around that. Why don’t they just help you?”

“It’s inappropriate once an angel becomes available for mating,” Castiel says.

“More inappropriate than letting your own son go flightless?”

Castiel shrugs helplessly. “I don’t make the rules.”

“Not without me encouraging you anyway,” Dean jokes, covering Castiel’s hands with his where they’re currently linked on his stomach.

Cas’s thumbs have been teasing at the exposed sliver of skin on his belly for what feels like _hours_ and he’s been trying not to get too turned on, which isn’t easy when as far as he can tell, Cas has had a semi since he got there this morning. The guy’s also been all over him like a damn octopus. Cas keeps insisting they sit up, but the longest he’s lasted so far without pulling Dean back into his nest where he’s pressed against him is about twenty minutes by his count, and that was when they were eating lunch. When they’re lying in his nest, Cas has his nose or lips pressed to his neck, grazing his skin, or breathing in his ear. Then there’s his wings, which obviously can’t get enough of him, and paired with Castiel’s hands - which are busy scent marking every inch of skin they can find: running up and down his arms, over the back of his neck, through his hair, and most recently, linking their fingers together - Dean feels like he’s been enduring hours worth of foreplay he knows isn’t going to give him a happy ending.

“Purely because of you,” Castiel says happily.

“Nah, I’m just the inspiration, you’re the one doing the rule breaking.”

“That’s because you, Dean Winchester -” Castiel kisses the top of his head lovingly “- are intoxicating.”

“You’re one to talk,” Dean says, sounding breathless again the way he has through most of their day together. He gives his hands a squeeze and then sits himself up. “I gotta go outside to pee.”

“I’ll accompany you.” They both get to their feet and walk out of the cave with their fingers tangled together and Castiel’s wing wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Cas leads him right outside the mouth of the cave and points him to where Metatron bashed his head against the rock. “Here’s fine.”

Dean lifts his brows. “I’m literally going to pee on your house.”

“That’s fine. You’re safe here.” Castiel turns around so his back is to Dean and says, “Go ahead.”

“Cas, come on, man. I’m not gonna take a leak with you less than two feet away.”

“I’m not leaving you out here alone even for a second.”

“I’ll be fine!” Dean insists.

Castiel huffs with impatience. “I don’t know how else to make you understand how dangerous it is here for you right now. I refuse to leave your side. You’ll just have to deal with whatever your problem is.”

“Oh I dunno, modesty,” Dean says bitterly, already unzipping.

“I’ll cover my ears.”

Dean tries to tell himself it’s the same as using a urinal and just gets the job done. He turns around once he’s finished, and since Cas does in fact have his hands over his ears and his wings are fanned out, he wraps his arms around his waist from behind and presses his chest against his wings. He expected him to jump, but he just lets his hands fall onto Dean’s and leans back against him.

“I wish we could stay out here. I want to show you all of my favorite spots. Show you the stars.”

“We will when we can,” Dean promises.

Castiel nods. “Let’s go back inside.”

Of course, he moves out of the way so Dean can go first and he can protect him from behind, so once he’s inside, he turns back around. “What do you wanna do now? More light petting in the nest?”

“Petting?” Castiel asks.

Dean grins. “Usually means hands wandering bodies while two people kiss.”

Castiel’s wings spread wide with a _snap_ and he’s already saying, “Oh no. No, no, no, no. Not _now,”_ before they tilt downwards in an unmistakable bow. “I’m so sorry, Dean. This is so inappropriate and -”

But his words cut off entirely when Dean seizes the presented opportunity. He looks Cas in the eyes with intent before he drops his gaze, presses his hands straight to his sides, and bows in response.

Castiel’s reaction is instantaneous.

Before he’s even straightened up, Dean’s being pushed against the wall with Castiel’s wings cradling his head the exact same way he was when he first got here this morning. Castiel moulds his body to his, slotting a thick thigh between his legs. Dean’s reminded of the arousal that’s been coursing through his body all day when his cock takes an immediate interest in the events.

“Do you know - do you know what that means?” Castiel breathes heavily, his voice rough and intense sounding.

 _Damn._ He knew he was going to get a reaction out of him, but this? “It’s one of those things, right? Like the rock?”

Castiel nods slowly, his eyes dropping to Dean’s lips. “You accepted my gift, you accepted the food I provided you with, and you returned my bow - which expresses physical attraction.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Dean answers, purposely wetting his lips since Cas is still staring at them.

“If we were both angels, that would mean we’re officially courting.”

Dean’s lips turn up into a smile. “And for us?”

“We make up our own rules, remember?” Castiel asks him, his eyes bright with hope. “Would you like to ‘angel date’ me, Dean?”

Nerves twist in his stomach, twining with an excitement he hasn’t felt in longer than he can remember: the excitement of _potential._ “You wore me down, Cas,” he smiles, running his hands up his chest to frame his face. “Yeah. I wanna date you.”

Their eyes lock, and once again, Dean feels himself pulled into the endless blue staring back at him. “Will you kiss me?” Castiel asks in a whisper.

Dean’s heart clenches in his chest at the raw vulnerability all over Castiel’s face. “Are you sure? ‘Cause we don’t have to right away. I can wait.”

“I feel like I’ve already been waiting forever,” Castiel replies. Then he looks past Dean and over his shoulder as he swallows audibly. “Un-unless you, um, you don’t wa-”

“I do,” Dean cuts him off. “Already told you I did before, remember?” He waits for Castiel to nod and meet his eyes again. “Nice and easy, okay? Just follow my lead.” Castiel’s tongue darts out to lick his lips, his eyes flicking between Dean’s eyes and mouth nervously. His own nerves quadruple when he thinks about how Cas is probably going to remember this - his first kiss - for the rest of his life.

“Close your eyes, angel,” Dean prompts him quietly, and he watches as his eyelids drop at once, those long eyelashes enchanting him as they fan over his golden skin. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, feeling the pressure of being Castiel’s first kiss disappear along with it, and then he leans in.

He takes his time, letting their noses bump together once gently so Cas knows how close he is. That alone is enough to have Castiel’s chin tipping up and his lips parting, and so it’s as easy as anything to slot his lips between them. He gently presses their lips together, his lips closing around Castiel’s full bottom lip quickly, and withdraws the pressure for a half a second before he presses against them again. He holds it for a few seconds this time so Cas can get more used to the sensation, then he pulls away to make sure Cas is still on board.

“Okay?” he checks with a sweep of his thumb along his cheek, and Castiel answers with a stilted nod because he’s already leaning in for more. Dean slides his hand around to the back of his neck, holding him in place while he kisses him again, and this time, he lets out the soft sound of pleasure bubbling up inside of him when Cas’s lips begin to move against his.

That spark of attraction that he’d felt from the very first day explodes between them hot and bright, then begins to simmer into something tender and heartfelt as their lips glide together, so fucking sweet it he feels his chest ache from it.

He savors the moan that Castiel makes and pulls back to breathe. “More, Cas?”

“Please,” Castiel breathes, kissing him again as his warm hands slide up his arms to his shoulders. This time, Dean slips his tongue out of his mouth to tease at the seam of Castiel’s lips. He prods at it twice before Castiel’s lips open for him, and fucking _finally_ he gets to taste that crisp scent he’s smelled on his breath that’s been tempting him from the beginning. It’s like tasting fresh air, every bit as exhilarating for his taste buds as it feels whipping through the sky at the top of a roller coaster, and he’s fucking _sunk_.

Suddenly desperate with the urge to claim, to _take,_ his tongue delves deep into his mouth a few times before he remembers to slow it down. He makes a sound of apology as he gently massages Castiel’s tongue with his, urging him to copy the movement with a curl of his tongue that has Castiel following naturally. He produces a soft moan, letting Cas know that he’s doing just fine and that’s he’s really into this as their tongues continue to tangle and slide together. Dean tilts his head to the other side, his fingers sliding in Castiel’s soft hair to guide him into mirroring his position as he changes the angle of their kiss, eager to learn every single thing that makes Castiel’s breath hitch and his grip tighten on his shoulders.

When he feels Castiel’s hips begin to rock against him instinctively, his body betrays him by following the movement and chasing the pleasure mounting between them until his brain catches up and he does the last damn thing he wants to do and starts to bring their kiss to an end. He withdraws a bit at a time, painstakingly slow to stretch their first kiss out as long as possible. Firstly, he forces his tongue to stay in his mouth, then he kisses Cas several times with their mouths closed and lips tacky with shared spit, until finally, he backs away entirely to take in Castiel’s expression.

It takes Cas a few seconds to open his eyes, but when he does, Dean would pay _anything_ for a picture of the exact moment he smiles. His face is red (which Dean knows is trouble), his pupils are blown wider than he’s ever seen them, and his hair’s kind of nuts since Dean’s been running his fingers through it. But even with all of that, it’s his smile that really gets him. The small, dazed, but distinctly pleased curve of Castiel’s lips both sets his blood on fire and makes him feel like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

He’s fucking _gorgeous._

Dean has to swallow hard before he manages to say, “That was a hell of a first kiss.”

“I was partial to the third,” Castiel answers, still with a small smile on his face.

Dean can’t possibly resist quickly kissing that smile now that he’s allowed to, and when he pulls away again Castiel’s smile has grown into something almost giddily happy. “In my experience, it only gets better from here,” he tells him, smoothing down the hair at the back of his head with a sweep of his palm.

“Why did you stop then?” Castiel asks. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, angel, you were perfect,” he says honestly.

“So why?”

“We’re both hard, Cas,” he says gently, not wanting to scare him off and also slightly embarrassed about having to say that out loud. “And I needed to stop kissing you before both of our bodies took over and I didn’t stop you from doing something I’m pretty sure you didn’t want to do.”

Castiel has that line between his eyebrows again as his eyes narrow quizzically. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you probably didn’t mean to, but you were kinda rubbing yourself against me at the end there,” Dean explains. “Your face is all red and I know you’re a little out of it because of mating season or whatever and I just didn’t want to take advantage of the situation.”

“I - I didn’t mean to,” Cas confirms, taking half a step back so they’re no longer pressed together from the waist down. “Kissing you just felt so good, though, I’m not surprised I lost my head for a second.”

“Felt good for me, too,” Dean echoes.

“Can I kiss you in my nest?”

Dean laughs lightly. “You can kiss me whenever you want.”

“Anytime?”

“Yeah,” Dean shrugs. “We’re dating, remember?”

Castiel’s smile spreads wide and he takes him by the hands, pulling him off of the wall and winding his arms around his neck. Cas looks up at him with his eyes glittering with happiness and Dean’s helpless to resist the pull he keeps feeling, so he closes the scant distance between them and kisses him again, licking into his mouth and exhaling deeply through his nose when Castiel’s wings encircle them completely. His hands are around Castiel’s waist, and as their kiss continues, he trails them along the thin strip of cloth, landing on the dip of his lower back and skimming up his spine until his fingers brush where Castiel’s wings attach to his back.

Castiel’s head tips back on a gasp, and Dean’s mouth moves to leave wet, open mouth kisses along his cheek until he reaches his neck.

“Dean,” Castiel whimpers, firmly forcing his head away with his hands. For a second, Dean’s heart freezes in his chest, afraid he crossed a line. But then Castiel is tilting Dean’s neck to the side and his mouth finds the pulse point he’s been rubbing against since they met, and Cas lets out the filthiest sounding moan he’s ever heard in his life.

“Mine.” Castiel’s voice rumbles against his skin while he keeps kissing and licking at that one spot, making Dean’s eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Fuck that feels good.”

“Mmhmm,” Castiel says, the sound vibrating through him. Castiel’s lips press harder into his skin. Dean feels the scrape of teeth against his flesh and he gasps, his hands hauling Cas closer to his body just so he can feel how hard he is. “Nest,” Castiel begs him. “Please, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes, and then, just like before, Cas hauls him up and Dean’s legs wrap around his waist. When Castiel’s cock nudges the cleft of his ass, he’s gone enough to undulate his hips and grind down on it, drawing a low sound from Castiel that’s muffled into his neck. Since he knows from experience that Cas needs to be able to see to walk them to his bed, he grips his hair firmly and pulls his head back, then dives in and takes over tasting every inch of his exposed neck while Cas carries him.

Castiel moves so smoothly Dean barely feels the change in their positions at all as he’s laid down. Castiel’s wings are still wrapped around him, cushioning his fall as Cas pushes him onto his back and into the nest pillow. Their hard cocks are lined up and slotted together, the thin material of Castiel’s loincloth leaving very little to the imagination when it comes to just how bad he wants him. He opens his mouth to say something to put the brakes on but only gets the first hard _C_ of Castiel’s name out of his mouth before Castiel’s lips cover his and smother whatever protest he was going to make.

He completely forgot his legs are still wrapped around his waist until Castiel’s hand begins blazing a path from his knee to his thigh and onto his hip to hold him in place so he can start thrusting against him. Dean’s head falls back with a desperate moan as sparks shoot to his throbbing cock, and Castiel’s lips land on his neck again, finding that one spot that makes him writhe underneath him, his body searching for more.

“Cas,” Dean gasps, his hands threading into his hair. “Fuck. So good, angel.”

“Dean,” Castiel growls, their cocks dragging together fast and dry, the friction driving him crazy and sending every thought except for _more_ completely out of his brain. The hand on his hip pushes up, rucking up his long-sleeved shirt to find a sliver of his stomach, and it’s the burning temperature of Castiel’s hand on his skin that reminds him this ain’t right.

“Cas, hang on, buddy,” he says breathlessly. Cas makes a sound of argument as his lips move to his jaw and towards his mouth. His lips press against Dean’s firmly, his tongue licks across his mouth trying to get inside, and Dean has to steel himself and turn his head as he forces him back by his neck.

“Dean?” Castiel asks confusedly.

“You gotta stop, man,” Dean tells him, turning his head back to look him in the face, which is as red as it was the last time he was in Dean’s bed. “You don’t wanna do this, do you?”

“I want you,” Castiel answers quickly, his hips still dragging their cocks together.

“Do you?” Dean asks with clenched teeth, trying to tell his traitorous cock to stop getting off on this. “Or is it the mating season thing?”

“Please, Dean,” Castiel begs him. But his eyes are glassy and unfocused, and as much as Dean’s body is ready and raring to go, his instincts are telling him this is all wrong.

“I want you, too, Cas. You have no fucking clue how much I want you. But you gotta stop.” Castiel doesn’t stop, still thrusting against him with his eyes staring blankly at nothing. “Listen,” he says, his voice harder this time. Castiel’s hips still for a fraction of a second. “Remember you said to tell you if you did something I’m not comfortable with?”

“What?” Castiel asks, his voice rough and a pinch settling between his eyebrows.

He chooses his next words carefully and makes sure his voice comes out gentle and understanding instead of accusatory. “I’m not entirely comfortable with doing this right now. I want you to stop.”

Awareness flashes in Castiel’s eyes, causing them to focus, and Dean can see the exact moment Cas comes back to himself. “Did I hurt you?” he asks, sounding alarmed as he lifts his hips so their groins aren’t pressed together anymore. “Dean, _did I hurt you?”_

“No, angel, you didn’t hurt me,” Dean says softly, running his fingers through his hair to show he’s not mad.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers hoarsely. “I’m so sorry. I’m so ashamed.”

“Don’t be.” He slides his hand down to cup his face. “If this wasn’t mating season and I thought you knew what you were doing, I wouldn’t have asked you to stop. I liked it. I wanted you to keep going.”

Castiel’s eyes screw tightly closed. “I need - Can I scent you?”

“Yeah, baby, of course.”

His face drops to his neck, rubbing carefully as he inhales deeply several times. “I’m so sorry,” Castiel says again, his nose still pressed to his skin. “I knew this would happen. I knew I couldn’t control myself around you.”

“You did control yourself,” Dean argues. “You stopped when I asked you to.”

“I still - I still feel the urge. _So_ strongly.”

“And you’re still not hurting me.”

Castiel breathes him in again. “Can I take your shirt?”

He has no idea why he needs it but he’s willing to do what it takes to help him. “You gotta let me up first,” Dean tells him, and though it takes a few seconds of Cas visibly fighting the urge to pin him down, Castiel does eventually get to his knees and pulls him up until they’re both sitting. His wings are still closed around him tightly, which makes removing his shirt more complicated, but he does wrestle himself free and presses his shirt into Castiel’s hands. Castiel’s eyes rake over Dean’s bare chest hungrily while he grapples blindly in the nest until he finds Dean’s discarded sweater. He pushes it at him before he gets to his feet, his loincloth still tented obscenely at eye level for Dean.

Dean hasn’t had a dick this close to his face in _years._ Saliva fills his mouth when he thinks about how much he misses the smooth glide of a cock heavy on his tongue.

“I know this is entirely inappropriate,” Castiel says, pulling Dean’s gaze from the bulge in front of him and up to his face, “and I apologize if this makes you feel at all uncomfortable, but I can’t deny myself the release I crave without putting a terrible strain on my body and mind. The longer I put it off, the more unpredictable my behavior will get. And I can’t leave the cave.”

“I know, Cas. I remember. Do what you gotta do. No judgement,” Dean promises.

“You’re going to hear me,” Castiel says quietly, his eyes trained on the ground and his wings fluttering with nerves.

Desire flashes through his body at the thought of the filthy sounds he might hear, reminding him once again that he’s still achingly hard. He licks his lips nervously and lets his own hand drift down his stomach to rest on the crease of his leg, his thumb and forefinger framing where his cock is still visibly hard and trapped within his jeans. “You mind if I join the party?”

Castiel’s eyes rise to Dean’s hand, his wings stretch out as his nostrils flare, and his fingers go white on the shirt he’s holding. “You’re going go do what I do?”

“If you’re on board. You’re not the only one still in the mood,” he grins.

Castiel nods repeatedly, his voice eager when he asks, “Will I hear you?”

Dean purposely pitches his voice low and smirks knowingly. “Oh I can pretty much guarantee it.”

Castiel’s eyes close as his wings curl towards him, which only causes him to take a few steps back. “I won’t look,” Castiel says fiercely.

“If that’s what you want,” Dean agrees. “We can talk about it after, okay? I know you’re ready to burst over there.”

“Thank you,” Castiel says quietly but emphatically. “Thank you for understanding.”

Then he turns away and heads behind him towards the back of the cave with a _whoosh_. Dean’s working on lowering his fly and freeing himself from his jeans when he hears the first low sound from Cas echoing in the cave. He must’ve been even more worked up than he thought he was if he’s already getting vocal. Not that he’s complaining. Acoustics are really going to work in his favor, he thinks with a grin.

His boxers are already damp from their frottage session, so it only takes wrapping his fingers around his cock and palming over his head once before he can start spreading the little bit of precome along his length. He inhales sharply through his teeth as his cock slides loosely through his hand. He uses his other hand to push up his sweater and tweak his left nipple, a jolt of desire shooting straight down to where his cock is rhythmically pushing through his fist.

A rough moan drifts through the cave. Castiel’s low voice, so fucking _perfect_ for sex, causes Dean’s cock to thicken further in his hand. The moan seems to echo through the cave, reverberating through Dean in what feels like intense shock waves of pleasure. He squeezes himself harder, speeding up his strokes and answering Castiel’s moan with a breathy, “Fuck, Cas.”

He hears a whispered, “Dean,” that has his nipple hardening between his fingers. He rolls it, bucking into his other hand frantically as he thinks about Cas pumping his cock in his big, warm hands. He wonders if his feathers get in on the action, and a desperate sound escapes from his lips when he imagines how good it’d feel to thrust through that soft, thick plumage. Cas’s feathers felt so fucking good on his skin, teasing at his nipples and on his neck back at his cabin, and he thinks about his feathers drifting over his body while Castiel’s plush lips feast on his neck.

The images in his mind cause a strangled sigh to make its way out of him as his hips roll forwards, forcing his cock through the tight circle of his hand. He rubs his thumb over the sensitive spot where his cockhead meets his shaft with each hurried stroke. Knowing that Cas is touching himself only a few feet away and probably listening for every little sound he makes the same way he is encourages him to be more talkative than he would usually be while jerking off.

“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes closed tight. A whimpered _unh_ meets his ears in response, causing his blood to boil as he tightens his fist even more. “Sound so good, Cas,” he praises him. “So fuckin’ hot.”

“You - smell - so - _good,”_ Castiel answers, each word said in a new breath, in the lowest, grittiest voice Dean’s ever heard. He feels every word like teeth scraping over his skin and he increases the pressure around his cock, squeezing it almost painfully hard now as it pulses within his palm. Another sound of pleasure from Cas has him speeding up his strokes, already chasing his orgasm blindly. This whole thing is _so hot_ and he can't help the way his hand flies over his cock when he hears Cas start breathing heavily. A soft sounding chant of, _“Ungh, ungh, ungh,”_ drifts through the cave and Dean can imagine Castiel fucking his fist, his face red and his mouth hanging open as he drives himself closer and closer to the edge. Renewed heat surges through him when he remembers Cas has his shirt, and when he thinks about Cas pressing it to his nose as he beats off he can feel a flush spread down his neck to his chest.

Then he hears his name. _“Deeeean,”_ is moaned long and low and Dean can feel his pleasure spike again. Desire is a ticking bomb in his stomach, compressing tighter and tighter inside of him with every stroke, his abs tensing and muscles locking up as his orgasm approaches rapidly from how hot all of this is.

Wanting Cas there with him, he warns him. “I’m close. Hearing you,” he gasps. Castiel moans again. “Thinking about you. Imaging what you look like.”

“Dean, please,” Castiel whines.

“Keep talking, angel. You sound so goddamn hot.”

“Dean,” Castiel says again. “Dean, Dean, _Dean!”_

 _Jesus Christ,_ the way Cas says his name has gotta be the single hottest thing he’s ever heard. In his mind’s eye, he sees Cas running his hand down his fat cock, punctuating each quick thrust with his name on his lips. So turned on and crazy with it that all Cas can think of is him, his name, his scent. An intense pulse of desire shoots through him so fast his breath is stolen from him as his back arches off the nest pillow, forcing his cock through his fist more brutal than ever.

“Oh ffffuck,” Dean huffs. Everything tightens as his hand flies over his dick and he knows he’s only seconds away. “I’m gonna come. Shit, shit.”

A punched out breath and a deep, _“Oh!”_ comes from Cas, followed by a soft, wrecked-sounding, _"_ _Dean,”_ and fire runs through his veins when he imagines Cas shooting all over those rock hard abs of his.

He tosses his head back, thumbs over his slit once, twice, and everything goes blank as his hips shoot forwards and cum explodes from the tip of his cock. _“Ungh, fuck Cas,_ I’m - I’m c-coming,” he stutters as he feels rope after rope of thick, hot cum splatter onto his stomach. He can hear the slapping of wet skin and broken sighs spilling from Cas, and it only makes him come harder. _“Cas,_ angel, _fuck,”_ he pants as his body tenses once more after he squeezes the tip of his cock, milking out a final mind-melting bead of cum he watches dribble down his spent cock. A vivid image of a long pink tongue lapping it up for him has his brain short-circuiting. “Holy shit,” he gasps. Slowly, his tense muscles turn to jelly, his sweat covered skin begins to cool, and he works on trying to catch his breath. That was _hot_ and he came so hard he feels like he just ran a marathon.

As the buzzing in his head starts to fade, he realizes this is the second time he’s been covered in his own cum in Castiel’s nest with nothing to clean himself up with. “Shoulda thought ahead for something to clean up with,” Dean says quietly.

“There’s moss stuffed along the bottom of the nest for that exact purpose,” Castiel's voice comes from behind him. “It works well, and it’s already been cleaned of dirt and bugs.”

Dean chuckles at the angel equivalent of tissue on the nightstand as he turns his head to find some, seeing green and reaching for it. Sure enough, he pulls out a piece about the size of his hand, and uses the greenest side to wipe himself up. It’s surprisingly absorbent, and he makes a quiet, “Huh,” sound as he cleans himself up. There’s tiny green pieces still stuck to his skin, but he isn’t sticky anymore, and he’s pretty sure they’ll fall off once he’s completely dry. He tosses the moss outside the nest, knowing he’ll have to pick it up later, puts his dick back in his pants and zips up.

“All good over here if you wanna come back and take advantage of the after orgasm snuggle.”

Castiel appears right away, and Dean sits up enough so Cas can get his wing under him. Cas snuggles in beside him for about thirty sweltering seconds before he blurts, “Can I lie on top of you?”

Dean’s surprised by the intensity of the question, but gives his okay. “If you want to, yeah.”

Dean sits up to pull off the sweater he put on when Cas left the nest (Castiel’s skin is seriously fever hot), and Castiel rolls himself until he’s between Dean’s legs. He carefully lines up their groins until they’re nestled intimately together, lifts Dean’s upper body to move his wing, then settles onto his chest with his nose pressed to Dean’s neck. His wings droop and fan out on either side of them, his alulae rest on his shoulders, and Dean feels both very safe and very... _claimed._

“This an angel thing?” he asks quietly.

“Instinct was telling me to do this, so I assume so,” Castiel answers. “Is it okay?”

“Yeah, you’re weirdly light, even if your skin is on fire,” Dean comments, kissing the top of his head. He loves snuggling in the post-coital bliss, and as nice as Cas is on top of him, he could use a little more interaction.

Thankfully, his kiss seems to pique Castiel’s interest, because his nose moves away from his neck and one of his alula feathers urges Dean to turn his head towards him. Then Castiel kisses him, soft and sweet with a happy hum in his throat right before their lips part for one another and Castiel’s tongue slips into his mouth. Cas has him pinned almost completely, so he can’t even move his hands to touch him, but he’s more than happy to follow Castiel’s lead to kiss him again and again with their bare chests pressed together.

They make out for ages, lips turning puffy and swollen from overuse. Castiel’s feathers brush his cheeks and his chest, and their kisses go from deep and passionate to lazy and messy, until Cas somehow winds up pressed along his back as the big spoon with his wings wrapped around him once more. Dean’s head is turned awkwardly to the side so their lips can still meet, not ready to give up on the kissing now that he can get his hand up into Castiel’s hair to hold him how he wants him.

He’s incredibly warm both inside and out, his eyelids are getting heavy, and his limbs are beginning to feel like lead. When Castiel gently nudges his head to the side so he can nuzzle into his pulse point on his neck, Dean winds his fingers into his wings and falls asleep to the soft rhythmic puffs of Castiel’s breath on his skin.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Dean feels Castiel’s hot lips moving across the breadth of his shoulders before he’s even fully awake.

“I’ve created a monster,” Dean says sleepily.

“You taste so good,” Castiel replies, apparently not ashamed of his actions whatsoever. “Just as good as you smell.”

“That might be the weirdest thing that’s ever turned me on.”

Castiel disagrees with a sing-song hum that sounds like _uh-uh_. “Don’t forget your feather kink.” As if to prove his point, those feathers tease at his chest as he says it. It’s like a direct line of _fuuuck me_ to his dick every time the feathers flick over his nipples, so Dean rolls onto his back to defend himself but Cas just takes the opportunity to move his lips along his chest and down his stomach instead.

He can hear the way Cas breathes in, slow and deep, and Dean’s face flushes red at the same time his dick twitches with forbidden excitement. With how often Cas has commented on how good he smells when he’s horny, it isn’t a big leap to take in order to figure out that Cas is getting off on the scent of the cum he wiped up before they fell asleep. Castiel’s blue eyes flick up to Dean’s when he opens his mouth and laps at his skin, moaning wantonly at the same time his eyes close with obvious pleasure. His lips follow his nose, his mouth open and wet and leaving a path of saliva behind as he maps each spot Dean came all over himself.

Unable to stand the heat rushing through him without doing something about it, Dean grabs a hold of his alulae and tugs gently, getting Castiel’s attention and licking his lips in invitation. It’s an invitation Cas takes, slithering his way up his body and capturing Dean’s lips in a searing kiss. As he gives himself over to Cas controlling their kiss, he can hardly believe he only just kissed Cas for the first time earlier that afternoon. Cas is a damn good kisser, and he’s currently being taken apart with flicks of Castiel’s tongue so perfect he moans into his mouth.

“Dean,” Cas says against his lips.

“Mmhmm,” Dean answers him, leaning forwards to kiss him again when Cas tries to pull away. Cas opens his mouth to say something else but Dean closes his teeth on that full bottom lip of his, nipping gently and soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue that has Cas pressing him back into the nest with a groan of his own. That one hint of Cas losing control has Dean’s pulse leaping with excitement; damn, he's strong. Cas runs his warm hand down and under Dean’s thigh, urging it up and around his waist. They slot together closer, the hot line of Castiel’s erection pressing up against his again and causing his breath to hitch in his throat.

Castiel’s mouth moves down past his lips and under his chin, stubble scraping and tongue licking his way over his Adam’s apple and across his neck. His teeth drag against that spot on his neck they’re both obsessed with now, and Dean holds his head there with his hands in his hair. “Come on, Cas, suck,” Dean urges him.

He calls out when Castiel’s lips form a seal on his skin and apply suction, making Dean’s hips mindlessly buck forwards for more friction. When Castiel picks up the speed of his hips, Dean matches him thrust for thrust, his blood all but boiling where he can feel the bruise Cas is still sucking to the surface on his neck.

Cas pulls away with a loud smacking sound and then _growls_ when he sees the mark he left on his neck, making eye contact with Dean and breathing hard.

“Now everybody can see I’m taken.” Dean’s voice comes out low and rough, already what he considers his “bedroom voice" just from a hickey and some rutting.

He’s not the only one affected like this though, because Castiel’s eyes are darker than he’s ever seen them and his cheeks are a delightful rosy pink. “By me.”

“Yeah, angel,” Dean answers, running his fingers along and through his alula feathers.

Castiel’s eyelids flutter shut as he breathes heavily. “Is it always like this?” Castiel rasps before dipping his head to catch his lips in another brutal kiss.

“Fuck no,” Dean answers shakily. “But humans don’t have the drive to mate taking over like you do.”

Castiel shakes his head. “I’m aroused -”

“No shit,” Dean jokes, rolling his hips up into him.

“But I’m in control," Cas stresses. "This isn’t the mating season. I know what I’m doing. This is _me_ wanting you so bad I can hardly stand it.” Cas kisses him again, prodding his lips open to kiss him deeply, beginning to rock against him again with purpose. Dean follows his lead and lets his hand drift down his chest, his fingers dancing over his nipple until it buds, drawing a muffled sound from Cas that gives Dean the go ahead to keep thumbing over the hardened nub. “Dean,” Castiel groans, dropping his forehead against Dean’s.

Dean takes several deep breaths, attempting to clear his mind enough to make sure not stopping is an option. “So is rubbing against you until you come in that little scrap of cloth you call clothes allowed between an angel and a human who're courting?”

“Mmmm,” Castiel responds, pressing his lips quickly to Dean’s. “I don’t think there’s a rule book for that kind of thing.”

“I’m a fuck the rules kinda guy, anyway,” Dean smirks.

Castiel arches a single brow. “I’m surprised to hear that, police officer Winchester.”

Dean’s dick _leaps_ between them, Castiel’s eyes go wide and questioning, causing him to swallow hard before he can answer. “I, uh, kinda get off on that.”

“Officer Winchester?” Castiel purrs.

He clenches his teeth, trying not to show he’s about to lose his ever fucking mind. “You fucker.”

Castiel laughs and catches his lips in another kiss, effectively silencing him. “I don’t know about the rule book, but I know I’m okay with this. I know I want you.” Hearing Cas say that with his deep voice has his cock straining painfully against his jeans, which he tries to forget about as Cas deepens their kiss. Cas starts moving against him again, forcing Dean’s leg back around his waist until they’re as close as they can be with clothes still between them. It feels damn good, but at the same time, his cock is beginning to chafe where he’s pressing against his fly so hard, but he does his best to ignore it, not wanting to stop now that he knows Cas knows what he’s doing.

Unfortunately that doesn’t last, as one particularly powerful thrust has him wincing and he has to stop. “Hold on, Cas. My jeans are kinda killing my dick here.”

“What?” Castiel sounds short of breath, but he glances down between them as if looking for the cause of Dean’s pain.

“The fly’s too hard to keep this up. I tried to ignore it but it’s kinda rubbing me raw.”

Like he’s unable to stop kissing him, Castiel presses his lips against his once, twice. “So take them off.” Three times.

“What?” Dean’s stomach clenches with excitement even as he pulls Castiel’s lip between his and sucks it into his mouth.

“You -” Dean moves his lips over to his jaw, kissing up towards his ear. _"_ _Oh, Dean_ \- you have another layer on underneath, right? One that’s soft?”

“Well yeah.” He says quietly, against the shell of his ear before he pulls the lobe between his teeth.

“S-so take off the outer layer if you’re uncomfortable.”

He blows gently on Castiel’s wet skin, grinning when he feels him wriggling needily. “You’re good with that?” he checks.

“I’m good with whatever lets me start moving on top of you again,” he says passionately.

Dean chuckles knowingly and eagerly pops the button on his fly. “You don’t gotta ask me twice.”

“Let me.” Castiel’s hands close around his wrists, stopping him. “I’ve never undressed anybody before.”

Dean moves his hands to fold them up behind his head and shoots him a cocky smile. “All yours.”

“I like how that sounds,” Castiel says, his eyes flashing with possessiveness. His fingers are hot where they brush against the strip of Dean’s skin just above his waist band and Dean pushes up into every little touch as Cas works on his pants. He feels the heat of his fingers through the thin cotton of his boxers graze his cock when he pulls down his fly. Dean bites down on his lower lip at the same time Castiel’s eyes dart up to his.

“I didn’t mean to touch you there.”

“I’m not complaining,” Dean assures him with a smile.

Castiel nods but resumes pulling down his jeans without touching anything but the denim. That changes once he pulls them off and his eyes drop to rake up his legs. Castiel’s hands start at his ankles and skim up his calves, over his knees and along the inside of his thighs. His thumbs ghost over Dean’s boxers, one on either side of where his cock is tenting the material, and then Castiel lies himself down on top of him again, carefully lining them up with a heavy exhale and his lower lip sucked into his mouth.

He moves against him gently, his eyes closing briefly before he pauses to ask, “Does that hurt?”

Dean’s already hitching his leg back up around his hip and grinding into him with a filthy roll of his hips. “Feels amazing.”

With so little between them, Castiel’s cock feels hotter than ever, and it’s strangely reminiscent of nudging against the heat between a woman’s legs before entering her, except Cas is fucking hard as a rock everywhere a woman would be soft. He feels arousal racing through his veins from the dual sensations and his hand is itching to grab a hold of Castiel’s ass.

He rests his hands on either side of his hips and inches them inwards and closer to his goal. Once his fingers just brush the swell of his ass cheeks he asks, “Can I touch you here?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers, leaning down to crush their lips together.

If there was ever an argument for Castiel actually being an angel sent from Heaven, it’s the round, firm ass his hands are lucky enough to squeeze. “Oh fuck,” Dean murmurs against his lips. “Fuck, you’re hot,” he tells him, palming his pliant flesh and dragging him against his cock in longer, slower thrusts that has them pressing together from balls to cockheads with every rock of their hips.

 _“Oh,”_ Castiel grunts. “That feels - that feels _so good,_ Dean.”

“Kiss me,” Dean begs him, and their lips come back together in a desperate crash of tongues and teeth. Dean keeps his hands glued to his ass, his fingers kneading into his supple flesh with every thrust, while Castiel drives him crazy by kissing him breathless with his feathers teasing at his collarbone, his chest, and eventually his nipples.

He breaks their kiss as feathers flick softly but rapidly over his sensitive nipples and Castiel’s big, hot hand palms possessively over his hip and stomach. He’s being stimulated in so many places all at once he feels like he’s with more than one person. His dick throbs between his legs at the thought as he tosses his head back on a desperate cry.

“The sounds you make,” Castiel says between sucking kisses into his neck. “You’re incredible, Dean.”

“You’re killing me,” Dean gasps. “So fucking sexy.”

 _“Dean,”_ he growls.

“You make my name sound so dirty,” Dean smirks, pulling him by his hair and only stopping long enough to add, “Fucking love it,” before their lips come back together. He thrusts his tongue into his mouth hard and fast, urging their bodies to grind together the exact same way. Castiel’s cock is burning hot and thick alongside his, and he can’t help but think about how good it might feel to have it thrusting _inside_ of him.

He can feel his cock getting hotter and hotter, and it isn’t until his breath catches at the surprising new sensation of smooth fabric that he realizes his cock has worked its way through the slit at the front of his boxers. He rubs himself more firmly against Cas, knowing there’s only one thin strip of fucking _loincloth_ between them and feels his orgasm mounting quickly.

“Harder, Cas,” Dean begs him.

Cas hikes Dean’s other leg around him and his next powerful thrust has his ass pounding into the nest pillow beneath him. Castiel’s mouth dips down to tease at the mark he sucked into his neck, and Dean keens, the sensation of pleasure/pain making everything inside of him go into overdrive as Cas presses him into the nest again and again.

“‘m so close,” Dean warns him. “Gonna come so fucking hard.”

“Dean, please,” Castiel answers.

“So close, so close, _shit,”_ Dean curses, clutching at his asscheeks. “Don’t stop, angel, you’re riding my cock so fucking good.”

“It feels so good. _So hard,”_ he groans.

“Fuckin’ right I’m hard for you, Cas,” Dean babbles, knowing he’s only moments away now. “Wanna - wanna -” Dean finally releases his ass and slides his hands up his sides and across his broad shoulders to find his alula feathers again.

 _“Oh_ Dean,” Castiel gasps. His feathers fan out for him and Dean slots his fingers between them, rubbing over them as he gets closer and closer to the edge. _“Oh yes,”_ Castiel pants. “More.” Dean doesn’t know what that means, but he makes a sound of agreement in his throat anyway and keeps threading his fingers through them faster and faster. “More feathers, Dean. T-touch my wings.”

Dean doesn’t hesitate a single second and digs his fingers deep into his wings. The sound Castiel makes is undoubtedly the sexiest thing he’s ever heard in his life, and as he cords his hands through the soft plumage, he gets a whiff of wood and crisp air that goes straight to his cock. Castiel captures his lips in a messy, desperate kiss at the same time he jerks against him, and then Dean happily swallows his muffled sound of pleasure as he feels a flood of heat between them.

Knowing Castiel is coming cranks the dial on his own arousal. Everything heats up fast and so blazing hot, and it’s only another half dozen thrusts before Dean’s body stiffens, his cock pulses, and his fingers grip Cas’s feathers _hard_ as he begins to spill his load. Castiel calls out again and looks down where Dean’s cum is still shooting from his cock, all over his stomach, and onto Castiel’s loincloth. Cas closes his eyes and breathes in the scent, and before he can even think to stop him, Cas is face first in a small puddle of cum and is lapping it up drop by drop.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes. He just came embarrassingly fast but he’s not the tiniest bit sorry now. Because Cas is making sounds like he’s indulging himself at a five-star restaurant as his hot tongue slides through his cum, and the sight alone is enough to cause him to leak from his tip again. Castiel’s head moves down and for a split second he thinks he’s going to lick across his head, but instead, he wipes Dean’s cock off with his loincloth before he collapses on top of him.

Dean yanks him by the hair until their lips come together and he shoves his tongue into Castiel’s mouth, moaning filthily when he tastes the bitter flavor of his own cum in the mouth of an angel. He sucks on his tongue, eliciting a high-pitched whimper from Cas, and kisses him roughly, getting pressed into the mattress all over again until all he can taste is Castiel, and only then does he release his hold on him and let them take in the air they’re both desperate for.

Castiel’s nose plants itself against his neck, and just like last time, his wings deflate entirely as they both pant to take in oxygen.

It’s a few minutes of Dean’s fingers cording gently through Castiel’s hair before he feels like he can string a semi-intelligent sentence together. “Well, that was unexpected.” Castiel lets out a laugh that sounds dangerously close to a giggle, which has a dopey smile spreading on Dean’s face. “You good, Cas?”

“Extremely,” Cas confirms. “But I’m afraid we have a very real problem now.”

Dean’s mind starts going a mile a minute. Did he move way too fast? Does Cas regret what they did? Does Cas think he took advantage of him or something because of the mating season thing?

“As long as you’re here, I’m never going to want to get out of this nest again,” Castiel continues. “And I’d prefer if you never put your shirt back on, either.”

Dean laughs lightly as relief courses through his body. “You stay on top of me like this and I’m never gonna _need_ a shirt ever again.”

“Sounds perfect,” Castiel says happily.

“You almost gave me a heart attack,” Dean admits. “Thought you were gonna say you regretted what just happened.”

“I could never,” Castiel says dreamily. “It was extremely satisfying, and it was with you.”

“And I’m your favorite person,” Dean teases, trying not to focus on the way hearing that makes him feel as good as he’s felt in months.

“You are in a league all of your own for how fond I am of you.”

“Same, Cas,” Dean answers easily, kissing the top of his head. “‘m I allowed to touch the rest of your wings now, or was that a heat of the moment thing?”

“You can, but you should probably know it’s incredibly arousing when you touch my wings.”

“What? Really?”

Castiel hums against his neck. “I didn’t know until you touched them for the first time outside when you were having that panic attack, but it didn’t take me long to understand why wing grooming is something that only happens between angels who are courting. It’s probably what _causes_ angels to mate for the first time, now that I think about it.”

“You mean have sex?” Castiel nods against his neck. “Think I can touch them without you wanting to jump me?”

“Probably not,” Castiel says honestly.

“Well, I better hold off then. I don’t know how it works for angels, but I’m not gonna be able to get hard again for a while and I don’t wanna get you all worked up for nothing.”

Castiel lifts his head and gazes down at him. “Really?”

Dean chuckles nervously and tries not to be insulted by his tone of surprise. “Yes, really.”

“Huh,” Castiel says, resting his head back on his chest.

“What?”

Castiel shrugs, his feathers rustling softly. “It’s nothing.”

“Come on, you can’t just say _huh_ like that and leave me hanging,” Dean prods.

“I was just thinking about when mating season peaks for me. I’m going to want to have sex or find release more than a dozen times over a three to five day period.”

“Jesus,” Dean breathes, not even able to fully comprehend that. He does the math quickly. Four orgasms a day for three consecutive days? “Pretty sure my dick would fall off.”

“That certainly wouldn’t help matters,” Cas chuckles. “Maybe there’s a valid reason why humans and angels rarely form pair bonds after all.”

Dean feels hurt seep inside of him both at the implication that he wouldn’t be able to keep Cas satisfied and that Cas has apparently already decided that they’ll never move past courting, though he tries to shrug it off. It’s not his fault angels are horny sons of bitches who fuck like rabbits during mating season, and he never said he’d be willing to form a pair bond with Cas anyway. In fact, he’s pretty sure he said he wasn’t ready for anything more than what they were already doing, so there’s no sense being hurt over something he didn’t want to begin with.  

“As long as we both know where we stand,” Dean says curtly, nudging Cas off of him so he can sit up and tuck himself back into his boxers. He reaches for his jeans and starts pulling them on, ignoring the way he can feel Cas’s eyes burning into his skin. He looks around for his shirt and ends up tugging his sweater back on instead since it’s the first thing he can find.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asks.

“Nothing,” Dean lies. “Wanna start chopping up vegetables for dinner? I’m hungry.”

“Alright,” Cas says carefully. “Just let me change out of my soiled clothes and I’ll bring the vegetables back with me.”

With Cas gone, he drops his head into his hands and tugs the ends of his hair in frustration. Why’s he so upset about this? Sure, he’s had a good time with Cas, and there’s no denying that he’s got a soft spot for the guy, but there’s no way this was going to work anyway. What’s he going to do? Live in this cave for the rest of his life?

No fucking thank you.

Somewhere between watching that sunset with Cas and researching all the different courting rituals, he had stopped thinking logically and started dreaming about how happy he could make Cas if he could give him everything the other angels wouldn’t. Then he got to kiss him and he lost his head, too swept up in the way Cas made him feel to remember Cas only spoke to him in the first place because he got hurt. Hell, he probably only bothers with him at all because he doesn’t have any other options.

Suddenly feeling all kinds of wrong sitting where they just got each other off, he gets to his feet and walks over to the bench instead. He grabs his bag on the way and digs out the wrapped up beef and Castiel’s net he brought to return to him. Might as well leave that here now that he has it out. Castiel comes back wearing a tan loincloth this time, with his little satchel over his shoulder, the cutting board, and his wings folded down sadly.

“Brought you your net back,” Dean tells him just to say something.

“Thank you. May I sit beside you?”

“Your bench,” Dean says, trying not to dwell on how Cas has angled his wings away from him as he sits so they can’t rest on his back like they always do. Guess Cas came to the same conclusion as he did.

It’s pointless to pretend this is going to work.

Without speaking, the two of them work on chopping the vegetables: potatoes, onions, carrots, mushrooms, and dandelions Cas throws into the bowl at the end. Dean wishes he remembered to grab the broccoli be thought to bring, but at least he brought teriyaki sauce and an oven mitt.

“Since the pan’s small, we should probably cook the meat first, then the vegetables, then throw it in together real quick to coat it in the sauce,” Dean suggests.

“Whatever you think is best,” Cas agrees.

“I looked it up before I came, and you need to put the fire out and then find four flat rocks to rest the pan on. Then you cook using the heat from the coals.”

Castiel nods. “I know where there’s rocks close by. I’ll be right back.”

Dean starts to cut the beef into smaller pieces, and before he’s even done, Cas comes back with the rocks. Cas puts the fire out and sets the rocks up silently, so now they just wait for the pan to heat up before they add the beef and onions. It’s slower going than it would be cooking over the stove, but once the beef is browned on the outside, they switch it out for the vegetables until they’re cooked through, then Dean adds the beef back in and covers it all in sauce. He lets it simmer for a while, both he and Cas just watching the food cook silently, until he pulls out a big chunk of beef to make sure it’s not still bleeding, and is pleased when he sees it’s a beautiful pink inside.

“Done,” Dean declares.

Castiel slips his hand into the oven mitt and removes the pan from the rocks, just letting it sit on the sand while he retrieves two bowls and spoons for them. He fills a bowl, passes it to Dean, and then fills his own and settles onto the ground instead of sitting with him on the bench. They eat the same way they cooked, in a heavy silence that makes Dean’s stomach twist uncomfortably. By the time he finishes his bowl (except for the dandelions - he tried, but he just can’t eat flowers) he’s made up his mind that he needs to get the hell out of here before things get any worse.

“Not bad, huh?” he asks, forcing a friendly tone into his voice.

“It was delicious. Thank you for providing the meat and the sauce and the pan.”

“Pan’s all yours. Hopefully you can cook some stuff differently now,” he says, starting to pack the rest of his stuff back into his bag. He feels Castiel’s eyes on him as he works, and once he zips up, he says, “So now that I know you’re fed and safe, I’m gonna take off so I can get home before it gets too dark out.”

“What?” Castiel asks sadly.

Dean shrugs awkwardly, not really wanting to make this a whole big thing. “Wasn’t really planning on hanging around, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I thought you were going to stay the night?”

“Nah, I don’t wanna get in the way of your angel stuff. You can swing by my place when you’re feeling more like yourself, okay?” He hitches his bag over his shoulder and slides his arm through the other strap when he hears a _whoosh_ and suddenly Cas is between him and the mouth of the cave.

“Dean, don’t,” Castiel says quietly, his feathers twitching nervously.

“Don’t what?”

“Please don’t go. I don’t want you to leave when you’re upset.”

He frowns and tries to smooth out his facial expression. He hasn’t given Cas any indication that he’s pissed off or hurt or whatever, and he doesn’t want to talk about why he is. So he does what he usually does to avoid a confrontation and shoots him a quick smile. “I’m not upset.”

“That’s not true.”

Dean huffs with irritation. “Don’t tell me how I feel.”

“Don’t lie about it then.”

He feels anger run through him hot and fast. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. I don’t belong to you, no matter how much you rub yourself all over me to try to claim me.”

Castiel flinches right before his wings droop sadly. “Why would you say that to me?” he asks, sounding hurt. “A little while ago you _asked me_ to mark you.”

“Yeah, well, that was before,” he says, embarrassed over Cas calling him out like that.

Castiel’s eyes are frantic with confusion and his feathers are fluttering like crazy. “Before what?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it!” Dean exclaims, feeling backed into a corner. “I just want to be alone. Let it go.”

“Dean, please,” Castiel begs, taking a step closer to him. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t know how to court somebody. I know I did something to make you feel badly but I don’t know what it is. You mean so much to me and I can’t stand the thought that I did something to hurt you.” Dean turns his head away when he realizes _he_ can’t stand to look at Cas when his eyes are so sad. Castiel takes several steps closer until he tentatively reaches out and takes Dean’s hand. To his irritation, even the simple touch of his hand in Castiel’s softens him. “I’m sorry, Dean. If - if I made you do something you didn’t want to do, if I moved too quickly or - or - did something that you thought was weird or disgusting.” Castiel speaks in a whisper, his voice shaking more the longer he speaks. “I won’t do it again. Any of it. I’ll - I’ll never even s-scent you again if you don’t want me to.”

Dean feels his heart aching in his chest for the angel and sighs quietly as he meets his eyes. “It was none of that, okay? You didn’t move too fast and nothing you did was weird or disgusting.”

“But it was right after that - right after being intimate with you for the first time - that you wanted to get away from me. I know I’m not experienced and I probably didn’t give you very much pleasure -”

“Cas, come on, man. You licked up the damn proof of how much pleasure you gave me,” he says impatiently. “You know I liked it.”

“So what, then?” His eyebrows knit together, but a few seconds later his eyes widen with hurt and betrayal. “You - you got your pleasure from me and now you want to go?”

Dean clenches his jaw and stares him down, flinging his hand back at him as he lets go. “That’s what you think of me? You think I’d do that to you?”

“No! But I don’t know what else to think because you won’t talk to me!”

Wanting to just get this over and done with so he can get the hell away from everything he’s feeling, he finally comes out with, “This thing between us isn’t going to work, alright?”

Cas takes a giant step backwards. “You don’t want to court me anymore?” he asks, his eyes wide and glistening.

Cas looks so unbelievably heartbroken that it causes sadness to take root in his chest, too. He has to remind himself this was all Castiel’s idea anyway. “You made it pretty clear that I’m not going to be enough for you, so no. I think we should just go back to being friends.”

“What? No! I never said that!”

“Yeah, you did actually, and that’s -” Dean stops to look away for a second and presses his lips into a firm line, trying to be as understanding as possible. “- that’s fine,” he finishes. “Whatever. At least you told me before I fell any harder for you. Let’s just forget today ever happened and we can go back to the wing snuggling or whatever you wanna do after you’re done with the mating season thing.”

“Dean, stop. I didn’t say that you’re not enough for me. I’ve never even thought that! You can - you can break up with me if you want to, but please don’t do it over a misunderstanding.”

“What part of, ‘there’s a valid reason humans and angels rarely form pair bonds’ is a misunderstanding?” he snaps.

Castiel’s jaw drops for a split second before he steps right back into his space. “No. That’s not what I meant. I meant _other_ angels and humans, Dean. Not us. Not _you._ You - you’re worth -”

“Slumming it with even though we both know I won’t be enough?” Dean finishes for him.

Castiel looks stricken by the very thought. “How could you even _think that?_ You are _everything_ to me, Dean. Everything!” He steps even closer until Dean has to fight the urge to back away and instead holds his ground. “Every single moment of happiness I’ve experienced in the last ten years is directly related _to you._ You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of finding in a mate.”

“Well aim higher, Cas, ‘cause I sure as fuck ain’t gonna get it up enough to help you out with what you _really_ need a mate for.” Once those words are out, it’s like a dam is broken and every thought he’s had about why this isn’t going to work comes spilling out with them. “I can’t be here with you all the time like a mate should be. I can’t stomach eating the damn flowers you put in my food, I can’t remember to bring the fucking broccoli, and I can’t even sleep beside you for a night without waking you up with the nightmares I’m probably going to have every night for the rest of my god forsaken life. So believe me, you got it right the first time. There’s a million reasons why you shouldn’t want me as a mate. You’re better off without me anyway.”

“Too late,” Castiel says stubbornly, lifting his hand to cup his face gently. Dean closes his eyes and tries to take deep breaths, reminding himself that everything he said was true and that Cas deserves somebody better than him. “It’s too late, Dean. I’d rather have you. I’d rather have you exactly the way you are than anybody else.”

“I’ll never be enough.” Even saying the words leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and the honesty in it burns behind his eyelids and clogs his throat.

Cas sighs softly, and his other hand joins his first until he’s framing his face. “You already are enough.” The crisp scent of Castiel’s breath is the only warning he gets before he feels his lips on his forehead.

Dean feels his own lips trembling, trying to keep the emotions bubbling up buried deep inside where they belong. “I never am,” he croaks. “I fuck up everything, Cas. You - you don’t even know. My brother, my job, my partner, _my whole life_ is one fuck up after another. I ruin everything I touch.”

“I’m perfect for you then, because I was ruined long before I met you.” He feels Castiel’s lips on his forehead once more. “But you, Dean? For the first time in my life, you make me feel like - like I’m not. Like I’m important and worthy and - and special.”

“You are,” Dean says passionately before he can stop himself.

“And so are you,” Castiel says exactly the same way, and when Dean feels Castiel’s lips hot but gentle on his, he forgets for a split second that he already decided they were both better off apart. That split second is long enough for Castiel to kiss him so softly, so frigging tenderly, that he forgets to refuse him when Castiel’s wings wrap securely around him, too. Castiel’s hands slide from his face to his shoulders until his arms are wrapped tightly around his neck and his fingers are teasing through his short hair.

Dean surrenders entirely with a sob that doesn’t make it past Castiel’s lips. He feels it deep in his bones: there’s no going back from this moment. He will never be the same after feeling everything he feels for Cas right now. No matter what happens between them, how fast this burns out, Cas has changed him irreversibly already.

Castiel’s lips move against his twice releasing small sounds before he understands what he’s murmuring. “You’re _perfect,_ Dean. Perfect.”

“Cas,” Dean breathes, shaking his head to try to protect himself from the onslaught of emotions.

“You are,” Castiel repeats. “I swear you are to me.” Then he seals their mouths back together, running his hands from his neck down his shoulders and pushing his backpack off until it falls on the floor. His wings wrap around him tighter than ever, his hands are seeking skin, sliding up under his shirt and stroking down his spine until Dean’s arching into his touch like a cat. He makes a happy sound in his throat and Castiel chooses that moment to break their kiss and touch their foreheads together. They breathe against each other’s mouths for a few heavy seconds before Castiel whispers, “Stay.”

Dean swallows once before he can talk. “‘Kay.”

“Don’t break up with me.”

Dean nods immediately, so touched by Castiel fighting for him in a way nobody else has in longer than he can remember, he’s sure he’d promise him the moon right now if he asked him for it. “Okay.”

Castiel’s lips curve into a breathtaking smile and Dean feels joy pierce through his heart like an arrow. “Tell me what broccoli is.”

Dean can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts out of him. His head tips back as he smiles, laughter still spilling out of him along with the remaining tension he was feeling, and it only comes to an end because Castiel’s cheek stops halfway through scenting his exposed neck.

“I’m sorry, I forgot,” Castiel says quietly.

“No, _I_ should apologize,” Dean corrects. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t do that anymore.”

“I don’t want you to think I want to own you like a possession,” he says sadly.

“I know, angel. I never really thought that. I was just trying to piss you off so you’d let me leave. You can scent me.”

Castiel shakes his head. “It’s okay, it’s a ridiculous angel thing I shouldn’t be trying to force on you anyway.”

Cas looks like a kicked puppy though, and he doesn’t want that. “You tryin’ to tell me you don’t want other angels to know I choose you, Cas?” Dean asks, already knowing the answer but hoping to goad him into action. “You want them to think I’m available?”

Castiel growls as he rubs his face along his neck firmly, one side at a time, and then presses an open-mouthed, lingering kiss to the bruise on his neck before he pulls himself away and pins Dean with a challenging glare. Dean leans in to kiss the scowl right off of his lips, smiling against them when Cas goes pliant in his arms. He nips at his bottom lip playfully, only pulling away enough to tell him, “I like when you scent me. I like knowing you want me to smell like you, and I like that you get all bossy and protective sometimes.” When Castiel smiles shyly, Dean opens up enough to add, “I’ve been protecting people for so long I forgot how good it feels to have somebody else do it for me.”

“I want to be that for you,” Castiel says. “I want to be everything you need.”

Dean’s heart pulses in his chest. “So far you’re batting a thousand.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

Dean chuckles as he nuzzles into his jaw, letting his stubble drag across his lips. “Means you’re doing everything right. Like a hundred percent.”

“I hurt you,” Castiel reminds him.

“I was being a baby,” Dean scoffs.

“You were not,” Castiel says, giving him a little shove so he can see his face. “If you had said something like that about angels I would have been devastated. I should have realized how what I said sounded. I’m sorry I was careless.”

“I probably shoulda asked what you meant before I flipped out,” Dean offers. Not wanting to drag this out anymore than he has to, he asks, “Forget about it, okay?”

Cas searches his face for a few seconds before he nods. “Do you want to go sit back down?”

“Yeah, or we can go back in the nest if you want.”

“Even better.” And so they make their way there hand in hand, and Dean winds up sitting back against Castiel’s chest the same way he did the night they watched the sunset. “May I ask you something?” Once Dean agrees, he asks, “Earlier when you were angry with me, you mentioned something about not wanting to fall any harder for me.” Dean winces, knowing Cas can’t see his face. “What does that mean?”

“It’s a uh, an expression for...” Dean stammers, not entirely sure how to answer this without saying the L Word and nowhere _near_ ready to have that conversation. “You know when you first start liking somebody, it’s just a little bit and you’re not totally sure? Then, if you’re lucky, you spend more time with them and you like them more and more as time goes on?”

“I am just now becoming familiar with that because of you, yes,” Cas confirms.

“Stop being so smooth when I’m stumbling over my words like an idiot,” Dean complains lightly. “That feeling - the liking a little bit more every time you see somebody - that’s falling.”

Castiel sounds like he’s trying and failing not to sound extremely happy when he responds, “And you’re falling hard for me?”

“You don’t have to rub it in,” Dean says dryly. “It just kinda slipped out. I’m usually not so good with the whole talking about my feelings thing.”

“I think you’re batting a thousand, with some prompting,” Cas jokes. “Though you still haven’t told me what broccoli is.”

Dean laughs again and explains it’s a vegetable that looks like a tree, which first has Cas thinking he’s making another reference he’s not getting, and then once he realizes Dean’s being serious, he wonders why in the world he was upset about _not_ bringing tasteless mini trees to add to dinner. Dean concedes he actually has a point, and admits that lately, he tends to blow up every little mistake he’s made in his head way out of proportion until it’s a much bigger problem than it should’ve been.

“Shrink said it’s part of the whole depression slash anxiety thing I’m still trying to deal with,” Dean confesses. “Catastrophizing.”

“When you’re ready to talk about that, I’d like to listen. I realize I may not have a lot of insight to offer considering I probably won’t know half of what you’re talking about, but you’ve made me feel so much better about myself that I find myself wishing I could return the favor.”

Dean shakes his head. “You’ve already helped more than you know.” He swallows hard, then adds, “You bein’ there in the middle of the night when I have nightmares, it’s - shit -” He has to stop to swallow a second time, trying to fight through how much he hates to feel vulnerable in order to force himself to get the words out. “It’s so much easier to fall back asleep with you there. No shaking or barfing or fucking crying. You’re just _there_ and it helps everything else go away.”

Castiel squeezes him in his arms, making him feel completely safe. “I promise I’ll make it a priority to be there with you as often as I can at night. I worry about you, Dean.”

“Guess we make a good pair,” Dean says wryly.

“Every morning when I wake up, my first thought is wondering if you managed to get a decent night’s rest.”

“Mine is wondering if you came by when I was sleeping,” Dean says, tilting his head back to look up at him. He’s not at all surprised when Cas leans down to brush their lips together, or by the way they end up lying down on their sides and kissing until they’re both breathless and starry eyed. Looking back, he has no idea what it is that made him open up. Whether it was the softness in Castiel’s eyes when he was fixing his hair for him again, the crisp, wood shaving scent pouring from Cas in waves, or the endorphins flooding through his body and taking over higher brain function, but at some point in between kissing and lovingly caressing one another, it comes out in a hoarse whisper.

“I killed somebody.”

He’s already mentally preparing himself for Castiel’s reaction, telling himself not to be insulted if Cas questions his decision-making or thinks differently of him after this, when those thoughts are cut off abruptly when he notices Cas’s expression hasn’t changed at all. He’s still looking at him with those impossibly blue eyes absolutely brimming with affection.

“Oh, Dean,” he says with a sad little smile. “I’m so sorry.”

Embarrassingly, tears flood his vision almost instantly. There's no, “What happened?” or, “How could you do that?” or even, “What do you mean?” There’s only instant compassion and empathy, and Dean buries his head on Castiel’s chest while he struggles to gain composure after a reaction like that. Cas starts rubbing his back, one wing pushes his alulae into his hands so Dean can stroke his feathers, and it turns out that’s everything he needs. When he thought he wouldn’t be able to talk about it at all, it flows like a river once he starts to let it out. He tells Cas how it happened. How he didn’t know it wasn’t a real gun. How he thought the shooter was going to shoot his best friend, and how even though a part of him understands it wasn’t his fault, he knows he’ll never forgive himself for taking the life of another person.

“You’re a hero, Dean,” Castiel tells him after a moment of silence.

“No. I killed somebody for nothing,” Dean disagrees.

“You saved Jo.”

“Jo was never in any danger!”

“Have you ever asked her what she felt in that moment? The moment she was staring at a man ready to shoot her?” Dean shakes his head reluctantly. Jo tried to talk to him about it a lot, but he always blew her off. This is the first time he’s managed to talk it out since he was forced to. “I don’t know for sure, but I’d be willing to bet she’d tell you she felt like her life was in danger.”

“But it wasn’t! He didn’t have a real gun.”

“I’m just trying to help you see that you probably weren’t the only trained police officer who was tricked by the fake gun,” Castiel says softly.

He sits silently with that for a few seconds, letting it roll around in his brain. Did Jo really think she was about to be shot, too? To her, when his gun went off, was he saving her life? He never thought about it that way before.

Cas cuts into his thoughts with, “Dean, you can’t hold yourself responsible for the actions of other people. All you’re responsible for, as a police officer or not, are your own actions. The choices _you_ made. I can’t even begin to guess the reason that man with a fake gun made the choices he made, but it shouldn’t matter anyway because that part isn’t on you. You did everything right.”

“Then why does it feel like I fucking failed?” he whispers.

“Because you killed somebody,” Cas says simply.

Dean feels his breath leave his lungs all at once as a enthusiastic _thank you_ echoes through him. Nobody’s ever bothered to say, “Of course you feel like shit. You killed somebody.” And it’s validating as hell to hear it.

“You did nothing wrong,” Castiel reiterates. “But you still took somebody’s life. To be frank, I’d be more concerned if it _didn’t_ affect you afterwards. If anything, you’re just proving that the opinion I’ve been forming about you and your enormous heart has been right all along. You feel so deeply, Dean.”

“That’s a fuckin’ curse when it comes to shit like this,” Dean admits, running his fingers along the vane of a feather.

“It’s one of my favorite things about you, though,” Castiel says. “When you smile, your entire face lights up. When you laugh, you laugh with your whole body. When you’re happy, you literally saturate the entire cave with how joyful you smell. And the best part about all of those things is that they're contagious. I’ve felt them when you have,” Cas tells him, and surprisingly, that actually does make him feel a little bit better. A lot better, actually, knowing that he’s brought happiness and joy to Cas when he’s had so little in his life so far. “I know it’s been hard, Dean, but maybe it will help to try to remember it’s not only bad things that a heart as big as yours can feel.”

Dean has to clear his throat from the sudden thickness in it before he can answer. “Yeah. Getting to know you better has kinda made that hard to forget.”

“That makes me really happy,” Castiel replies, kissing the top of his head for what must be the twentieth time today (not that he’s complaining). “You deserve happiness. You don’t deserve to walk around with what happened in the past hanging over your head like a rain cloud for the rest of your life.”

“It’s never gonna go away, though,” Dean says, voicing his worst fear. “I’m always gonna know I killed somebody.”

“That part will never go away, no. But hopefully it won’t always be so twisted up with the misplaced guilt you feel over it. I really believe things would get easier for you if you could find a way to forgive yourself for the honest mistake you made.”

_Never gonna happen._

Like Cas can read his mind, he adds, “For angels, when tragedies strike the garrison, we have a ceremony for those affected to help erase the demons,” Castiel tells him. “Maybe when you’re up for it, we could give it a try.”

“Gonna make me put on a loincloth and dance around a fire?” Dena asks, tongue-in-cheek.

“Hmmm. I wasn’t going to suggest the change of clothes, but that _does_ sound appealing,” Castiel teases. “So yes. I insist. And don’t forget the dancing.”

Dean surprises himself by laughing. It isn’t a belly laugh or anything, but for the first time since he’s talked about the shooting, he doesn’t feel the urge to go get a drink and he doesn’t feel a panic attack coming on. Instead, with Cas, he’s laughing.

“I’d totally wear a loincloth for you,” Dean tells him with a grin, silently coming to the realization that he can’t think of a damn thing he _wouldn’t_ do for Cas.


	11. Chapter 11

Apparently Cas has a bit of a loincloth kink, because the more Dean teases it, the more red-faced he gets. Eventually, he’s worked up enough that he needs to rub one out in the back of the cave again, and even though hearing the sounds he makes is just as hot as it was the first time, Dean doesn’t do more than palm over his dick a time or two just to feel the thrill. If Cas is gonna be like this tonight and tomorrow before he leaves again, he wants his dick to be ready for more later.

Once Cas comes back, he indulges him with another post-orgasmic cuddle/make out, and the two of them run out of things to talk about for a little while. He finds it strange that it’s _not_ strange to just lie in Castiel’s arms and soak up the silence, but he feels safe here. He’s extremely comfortable, and even though they aren’t saying anything, just having the company of another person is nice. At some point, Dean suggests playing cards again, so they do that for a little while until Dean’s eyes get tired of straining in the near dark inside the cave.

As he puts the cards away, he tells Cas, “I have two more surprises in my bag of tricks, but this is the last one for tonight.”

He pulls out a bag of marshmallows with a big smile. When Castiel has no reaction, he tosses the whole bag at him and laughs when he can tell by the look on his face that he still has no idea what they are. “Marshmallows,” Dean explains. “Basically fluffy sugar. I don’t even know how else to describe them,” he admits. “But people put ‘em on the end of a stick and roast ‘em over a fire until they get kinda crispy on the outside and gooey on the inside and they’re freakin’ delicious.”

“You had me at sugar,” Cas smiles. “I’ll go find us some sticks.”

Dean’s amazed all over again at how fast he can move as he watches him all but disappear with the signature _whoosh_ of his wings. He’s got to figure out a way to see him fly for real. Cas’ll probably look like a human blur if he goes at full speed, but if he can get a good look he knows he’ll be stunning. He pulls his earlier discarded sweater back over his head since he can feel how chilly it is inside the cave now that Cas isn’t wrapped around him like his own personal blanket, and by the time he’s out of the nest and sitting by the fire, Cas is back with two perfect marshmallow roasting sticks.

“Will these work?”

“Look good to me.” He tears the marshmallow bag open, only making a small tear in the corner so they’ll stay good for a while and passes one to Cas. “Some people eat them without being on the fire first if you wanna try one.”

“What do you suggest?” Castiel asks, sitting next to him and settling his wing around him.

“I think they’re way better roasted.”

“I’ll wait to cook one first, then.”

“Just poke your stick through the middle,” Dean says as he does the same with his own stick. “Make sure it’s on real good or it could fall off, and I’m telling you, it’s a disappointment of epic proportions to lose a perfectly roasted marshmallow.”

Castiel laughs lightly. “Sounds like you speak from experience.”

“Just hope I don’t have to say _I told you so,”_ Dean says with a smile. “And now we roast.” They both stick their sticks over the fire. “I like mine a little golden brown all the way around, but Sammy used to wait for them to catch on fire and turn blacker than a witch’s tit before he’d eat it.”

 _“Blacker than a witch’s tit,”_ Castiel repeats under his breath. “How do you come up with these things?”

Dean chuckles a little. “Honestly have no idea where that one came from. Must’ve been my parents. Or maybe Jo’s mom, Ellen, that sounds like something she’d say.”

It seems like Cas is going for the burn it black method, judging by the way he shoves the marshmallow directly over a huge flame. Not surprisingly, it’s only a handful of seconds before the entire thing is on fire. Cas pulls his stick out of the fire with a squawk, then does the little kid thing and starts waving it around to put it out, only missing Dean’s face by a freaking _inch._ Cas sees what he did and over corrects, almost catching his own damn wing on fire before Dean grabs ahold of the stick and blows out the flame.

Cas is breathing hard, obviously freaked out by almost catching his boyfriend and himself on fire, and Dean just shakes his head at him in amusement. “You literally cook on a fire to survive.”

“I didn’t know it was going to catch fire so quickly! I panicked!”

“Yeah, I got that when you almost lit my eyebrow on fire,” Dean chuckles. “Next time, blow.”

“What do I do with this one?” Castiel asks, looking at the blackened hunk of marshmallow on the end of his stick like it’s personally offended him. Dean slides a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in for a quick kiss, still smiling at the pissed off look on his face, then pulls the marshmallow off Castiel’s stick and tosses it in the fire. He puts another fresh one on the end, and says, “Give it another shot.”

Castiel burns the next three and gets more and more frustrated with each one while Dean tries to pretend like it isn’t one of the funniest things he’s ever seen. He finally dissolves into a fit of laughter when Castiel pins him with an irritated look and says, “You could at least pretend not to take joy in my incompetence.” Of course, laughing doesn’t help anything at all, so he sucks up by giving Cas the next perfectly browned marshmallow he cooks, then actually holds Cas’s stick with him to show him when to pull it out of the flames before he catches it on fire.

Cas eats this one off of his stick for the first time, and somehow manages to get marshmallow stuck all the way around his mouth, which Dean is more than happy to help him clean up - with his lips and tongue. He has no idea how it happens, but he winds up in Castiel’s lap with the two of them making out and grinding together like a bunch of horny teenagers, but they both manage to pull away before it gets too out of hand.

Cas finally makes himself a few decent marshmallows after that (though Dean remains the unchallenged champion), and he’s filled with contentedness and peace when Castiel breaks the small silence.

“This was fun,” Castiel says

“Yeah?”

Castiel nods. “Once I got the hang of it. I haven’t cooked for pleasure before.”

“Next time I’ll bring the fixings for s'mores. I bet you’d love those.”

“More sugar?”

“Oh yeah,” Dean nods. “Graham crackers, which are sweet and crunchy, and then you put a stick of chocolate on the cracker, then put a roasted marshmallow on top of that, finished off with another cracker like a sandwich. The marshmallow melts the chocolate, so you get warm, gooey, melty, and crunchy all at once. It’s heaven, man.”

“It sounds fantastic.”

“You’d make a huge mess,” Dean chuckles.

“I can guarantee it if you promise to end up in my lap again cleaning me up,” Castiel flirts.

“Oh I’ll clean you up alright.”

“Why does that sound so dirty?” Castiel asks with a tilt of his head.

“That's what I was goin’ for,” he says with an eyebrow waggle.

“Are you almost ready for bed?”

“Was that a really bad segue?” Dean teases.

“Are you offering?”

Dean laughs again, pleased with Castiel's quick wit and how easy it is to banter with him. “I’m ready for bed. Pee first, though.”

After a quick trip outside, Dean brushes his teeth with a bottle of water and learns that Cas chews on certain sticks to clean his teeth (ew), and the two of them are huddled back together in Castiel’s nest with Dean’s head in his nook.

“I wish my nest pillow was as comfortable as your bed,” Castiel complains.

“Mmm, I like it, though. Smells like you.”

“It smells like you, too. I’ve been sleeping with your clothes in here,” Castiel confesses, like he didn’t already figure that out. “It helped me not to get too hot.”

Which is when Dean realizes Cas isn't hot right now, just his normal slightly warmer temperature. “You feel fine now.”

“Thanks to you,” Castiel says, rubbing up and down his arm slowly.

Dean settles into the softness beneath him contentedly. “God your wings are comfortable,” Dean sighs happily, tugging until they wrap around him even tighter. “I’d sleep on a Cas wing-feather blanket all the time if I could.”

“I’ll make that happen for you as often as I possibly can, except the angel comes attached to the blanket.”

“That’s okay, I like him, too," Dean says dreamily, pleased that Cas is going to try to sleep with him more often.

“I will never understand why, but I’m very grateful,” Cas says quietly.

“You just want me for my bod,” Dean quips, too tired to talk about anything too serious right now.

“I have been enjoying the residual side effects of courting during mating season,” Castiel says, and Dean can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Dean laughs. “Pretty sure I’ll be able to give you a hand, so to speak, again tomorrow morning.”

“That sounds like a very good way to wake up.”

“Dude, you have no idea,” Dean agrees. He can’t help grinning when he imagines waking Cas up to his dick in his mouth for the first time. Cas would probably literally think he died and went to heaven.

“What are you snickering about?” Cas inquires.

“Just thinking about how I can’t wait to give you your first blow job.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Oral sex,” Dean rephrases.

“Oral sex? _With your mouth?”_ Cas questions, slowly putting it together. “You mouth and what?”

“Your dick,” Dean chuckles, and then he _has_ to pop his head up to look at Castiel’s face for his reaction. He looks a hilarious mix of shocked and intrigued.

“People...  _do that?”_

“It’s awesome, Cas, you have no idea. Some people like it even more than sex.”

“D-do you?”

Dean shrugs, considering. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On how good the sex is and how good the blow job is.”

Castiel pinches his eyebrows together like he’s trying to make sense of this. “Okay - the best blow job you’ve ever had versus the best sex you’ve ever had?”

“Whew,” Dean exclaims, flopping back down into his arms. “Cas asking the tough questions here,” he chuckles. He goes through a quick replay in his mind, and answers, “Definitely sex.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be ready to have sex with you,” Castiel says quietly.

“Cas, I don’t even know if _I’m_ ready to have sex with you,” Dean responds. “Lotsa time, okay? Promise.”

“I have been enjoying kissing you,” Cas says quietly, as if it’s something to be ashamed of.

“That’s a good thing. I don’t think I’ve kissed somebody this much since high school, and I’m kinda loving it, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Once sex comes into play most people just kinda skip that part to race for the finish line. I think I forgot how good just kissing can be, too.”

Castiel’s voice is teasing and full of affection when he says, “If you start to forget with us, just let me know and I’ll be happy to remind you any time.”

“You’re such a good boyfriend,” Dean teases back.

“You think of me as your boyfriend?” Castiel asks, now sounding suddenly serious.

Dean shrugs. “I know you say courting. I could say dating, but since I know neither of us are dating anybody else, I guess I went straight to boyfriend in my head.”

“I don’t mind, I was just clarifying. I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

He can't deny the surge of warmth that rushes through him at that, but that doesn't mean he thinks it's a great idea. “Still think you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“How about you let me worry about that?” Castiel suggests, hooking his chin over Dean’s head.

Considering how warm and happy he feels right now, he can’t find it in him to argue, and says as much. “I’m too warm and happy to argue with you right now.”

“I know,” Castiel says softly, and Dean’s reminded that he can smell the happiness coming off of him. “I wish you could tell how happy you make me as well.”

“I can tell,” he assures him, working his fingers through his alulae. “Gonna let me help you with these tomorrow?” he asks, running his hand over the top of the wing closest to him.

“I’ll think about it,” Castiel answers.

“No pressure. Just want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

“I know,” Cas says, rubbing his cheek along the top of his head. “You tired?”

“Mmhmm.” He’s always tired when Cas has him wrapped up like this.

“Will you take your shirt off to sleep?”

Dean considers that. “I’ll freeze if you move.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Cas promises.

So Dean sits up to pull his shirt off, then looks over to Cas. “Think you can keep all of me warm enough? At home I sleep in pajama pants, or if I don’t have any, just my boxers. Would be more comfortable than sleeping in jeans.”

“Your boxers are your soft layer under your jeans?” Dean nods. “Yes, I can keep you warm.”

“Awesome,” Dean grins, shucking off his jeans and lying down so Cas is the big spoon. He’s not at all surprised when he feels Cas’s semi pressed up against his back side, but he says, “Hard again?” anyway.

“You’re extremely attractive and mostly naked,” Cas points out.

Dean huffs out a laugh. “Fair enough.”

“Sleep well, Dean,” Cas says. Dean turns his head enough so their lips can meet for a goodnight kiss.

“See you when I wake us up in a few hours,” he says, trying to make it a joke even though his insides are already twisting with shame.

“I’ll be here,” Cas whispers, and Dean falls asleep knowing that absolutely.

His prediction was right, and he wakes with a gasp. He tries to sit bolt upright in bed but is held down by a soft wall of feathers.

“Cas,” he wheezes.

“Right here, Dean,” Cas answers soothingly. “It was just a dream.” Dean nods, trying to catch his breath and force the dregs of the bad dream out of his mind. “What do you need?”

Dean answers wordlessly by turning around to face him, and letting Cas encircle him with his arms and his wings. As he feels the panic begin to ebb, the all-too familiar shame takes its place.

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely.

“Don’t be,” Castiel answers. “I’m happy I’m here.”

“Me too,” Dean replies honestly. He taps out the rhythm to _Ramble On_ on Castiel’s ribs until he feels his eyelids grow heavy again. It’s only when they drop closed that he notices Cas is pretty hot. “You feelin’ okay? Your skin’s hot.”

“I’m okay.” But now that he’s paying attention, he sounds hoarse, too.

“You’re lyin’.”

Castiel huffs softly. “I’m not great, but I am okay.”

“You need something? I can get dressed again if you need to jerk off.”

“No, I can handle it. As long as you’re here.”

Dean doesn’t answer him, but he lies awake for a long time thinking about how much worse off they’d both be without the other.

The second time he wakes up, it’s because Castiel is tossing clothes onto his body none too gently. “Cas?” Dean asks groggily.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be right back. Go back to sleep.”

Dean’s still blinking in confusion when he hears the first tell-tale sound of Castiel masturbating. He tries to keep himself covered as much as possible with his clothes so he doesn’t freeze to death, but it’s surprisingly fast when the unmistakable sound of Castiel finding his release reaches his ears. Only seconds later, Castiel is back in the nest, and Dean lifts his upper body so he can get a wing under him.

“My turn to apologize,” Cas rasps. “I thought I could wait until morning, but it’s getting more difficult.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I told you I’d keep you warm and then I left.” He can actually  _hear_ the pout in his voice. 

“You were gone for two minutes, Cas, relax. I’m fine.”

“You’re cold,” he argues.

“Only because you’re like a fuckin’ furnace. How come you’re not cooling down?”

“I’ll get progressively worse until the urge fades entirely. I believe I’m entering the worst stage now.”

“Where you won’t be able to leave the cave?” Castiel nods before he plants his nose on Dean’s neck. “I’m gonna stay and help you, then.”

Castiel makes a _hmph_ sound in his throat and says, “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

‘’Night, angel.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

It’s still dark outside the third time he’s woken up. This time, it’s because Cas is humping him from behind like his life depends on it. Castiel has his bottom arm wrapped across his chest and up to his shoulder, and his other hand is splayed across his stomach, effectively holding him in place. Cas’s cock as hard as fucking stone, and currently riding the crack of his ass, with his boxers and Castiel’s loincloth between them.

Cas is panting and grunting his name.

“Dean - Dean - Dean - wake up. Please, wake up.”

“I’m awake,” Dean says. When Cas doesn’t make any indication that he heard him, he raises his voice and says it again, “I’m up, Cas.”

“Do you want me to stop?” he grits out.

He’s not hurting him any, and letting him stay means he won’t get cold. With how fast he came last time, he’s sure it won’t be long. And he wants to help. “No, keep going.”

Castiel inhales deeply before his nose is pressed right to his neck again. Dean can feel his breath hot on his skin, his words partially muffled by how close his lips are to his body. He repeats the same thing several times before Dean picks up on the fact that he's praising him. _"D_ _ean._ So beautiful. So strong and muscular. Smell so good. So perfect.” He picks up his pace, thrusting against him harder and faster, and then he starts chanting, “Mine, mine, mine.”

Dean’s blood is boiling, both from the unbearable heat coming from Castiel’s body and from Cas being so possessive when he’s rutting against his ass.

“Can I - can I - uuuunggh, _Dean,”_ Castiel moans. “I’m going to - can I - please, Dean?”

He’s going to come, obviously. So he must want to know... “Yeah, you can come on me, Cas.”

 _“Dean!”_ Castiel calls out, and he can feel his hand work its way between their bodies to pull himself out of his loincloth.

Castiel’s cock is even hotter than it was before when Dean feels it resume sliding along his cleft, and he raises his voice to say, “On my back, okay?” That way his boxers won’t get crusty. Cas seems beyond words, but he feels him nod against him, and it’s only moments later when the hand still splayed on his stomach tightens, and then Dean feels the first hot splash of cum on the center of his back at the same time Castiel’s teeth clamp down on his neck with a growl.

Dean feels his own cock twitch in his pants at the sudden rush of pleasure/pain, but he’s too distracted by Cas coming all over him to pay it much attention.

Castiel’s body goes lax slowly behind him, and the mark he so roughly bit into his skin is soothed with dozens of soft kisses before Cas rolls away and wipes up Dean’s back with what he assumes is moss.

“That was so much better than doing it on my own,” Cas comments huskily, and Dean laughs a little. “I’m sorry for waking you again.”

“Happy to be of service. If the sun’s up next time, I’m joining in.”

“I feel much better. I’ll be okay for longer, now, I think.”

“You already feel cooler,” Dean realizes. Castiel hums, half-kisses his neck again, and then Dean feels his body relax even further. Curious, he asks, “Cas?” and gets no response. He snorts when he figures he fell back asleep already, and closes his eyes to join in there, too, while he can.

Dean opens his eyes to a face full of black feathers and Castiel’s arms wound loosely around him, which means he must still be sleeping. Considering how many times they woke up last night, he feels strangely well rested. As far as he knows, he only had the one nightmare, which was a nice change and keeps up with Castiel’s one nightmare a night record. He probably would’ve slept through the rest of the night without waking if Cas wasn’t dealing with mating season.

Speaking of mating season, it seems like not all of Castiel is asleep, if the hard thing poking into his lower back is anything to go by. Dean takes a moment to imagine being four years older than he is now and still ready to get off for the fifth time in less than 24 hours and finds he can’t even picture it. He should work on keeping Cas fed and hydrated today, he thinks. If he’s gonna keep losing bodily fluids like he has been, he needs to make sure he drinks enough to keep up with it. He wasn’t planning on staying out here for days and doesn’t really want to if he doesn’t have to, but maybe he can convince Cas to come back to his place with him tonight? If he can get him off right before he leaves, and he leaves just as it’s about to get dark, maybe Cas can fly over real quick? It’d be a hell of a lot easier for him to take care of Cas if they were at his place.

He’s decided to bring it up when Castiel’s arms tighten around him, and Cas wiggles forward to rub his face along his neck with a soft humming sound.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean says, his voice still rough from sleep.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel replies, sounding sleepy. He’s still so warm, and as he winds himself around Dean even closer, Dean sighs happily.

“How you feelin’?” he asks.

“Remarkably rested for how many times we woke up last night.”

“Was just thinkin’ the same thing,” Dean comments.

“And also slightly aroused.”

“Slightly?” Dean repeats on a laugh. “I could feel your dick on my ass before you even woke up.”

“For me right now, that’s still only slightly.”

Dean rolls over in his arms until they’re face to face, and an intense warmth radiates from his heart and through his body when he sees Castiel’s bed head sticking up everywhere and the way his eyes are still squinted as if he isn’t fully awake yet. He lifts a hand to cup Castiel’s face before he presses their lips together softly, the pressure slowly but steadily growing between them with each subsequent kiss.

Dean slides his hand from Castiel’s face into his hair, then over his shoulder and down his side until it rests on his lower back. He pulls him in a little bit closer until his arousal is pressing against Castiel’s, and moans softly when Castiel breaks their kiss to mouth his way down his face and to his favorite spot on his neck.

“You wanna keep going, or eat breakfast while you can?” Dean asks him, his voice turning slightly breathless as Castiel’s lips find the bruise he left last night.

“Both,” Castiel answers, making Dean laugh. Cas leans away from him, and now it’s his turn to card his fingers through Dean’s hair. “It’s different when it’s because I want to and not because my instincts are telling me I want to. I enjoy it more.”

“We got time,” Dean says, tilting his head until he can nuzzle into Castiel’s hand. “I’ll still be here when your head’s back on straight.” Then he opens Castiel’s hand with his own and presses a kiss to the center of his palm.

Castiel lets out a soft sigh before leaning back in, and then they’re kissing again, tongues meeting in a gentle caress that melts him at his core. His feathers are soft and warm on his skin, caressing his back and turning him on even more as they continue to sample each other’s mouths.

Castiel breaks the seal of their lips only to kiss him once more chastely. “I am falling so hard for you,” he whispers, and Dean’s heart skips a beat until he remembers that Cas doesn’t really know what it means since he didn’t tell him the whole truth. Regardless, Cas is telling him he’s liking him more and more, and doing it hard.

Dean answers, “Same, Cas,” without even knowing which version of _falling_ he’s admitting to.

“As much as I hate to say this, I think we should eat breakfast.”

Dean nods his agreement. “I think so, too. There’s lots of time for fooling around later.”

Castiel runs his hand over Dean’s shoulder and down his chest. “I hate that you have to put clothes on.”

Dean laughs and leans in to kiss him one more time before rolling onto his back to get away from Castiel’s enticing arms. He can feel Castiel’s gaze burning on his skin, and he turns his head to watch as his eyes slowly travel down his broad chest and soft stomach until they settle on Dean’s erection. There’s a few heavy seconds when Dean feels like he can’t breathe with Castiel’s searing gaze pinning him in place, and then Castiel moves faster than humanly possible, settling between his legs and kissing the breath out of him.

All thoughts of breakfast go flying from his brain as their erections slot together once again and Castiel’s teeth close down on his bottom lip. Dean lifts his hands to slide along the top of Castiel’s wings, causing Cas to whimper into his mouth. Dean teases him by petting over his wings, sliding his fingers ever so gently over the surface so they _just_ breach the upper layer of his feathers. Just that has Castiel breaking their kiss to pant, “Please,” into his mouth.

“I got you, Cas,” Dean promises, but he doesn’t apply more pressure, just continues to tease him until he takes advantage of Castiel’s bliss to delve his tongue into Castiel’s mouth. He kisses Cas with everything he has, curling his tongue around Castiel’s and sucking gently on the tip, letting his teeth dig into his lips sporadically while his hands continue to brush over Castiel’s wings.

When Castiel’s kisses begin to match the passion in his own and his hips start rolling against him, Dean plunges his fingers into his feathers. Castiel calls out desperately, throwing his head back and exposing his neck for Dean to feast on. _“Ah!”_ Castiel cries as Dean gets two handfuls of feathers and surges up to start sucking a mark matching his into Castiel’s skin. Cas pushes himself up onto his arms and gazes down at Dean, his eyes darkened with arousal and his lips already kissed a darker pink. He leans in to catch Dean’s lips in another kiss before he begins burning a trail down his neck and to his chest.

Dean’s hands tighten in his feathers when Cas flattens his tongue to lave over his nipple, causing it to bud for Castiel to close his teeth around it. Dean feels an electric shock of desire work its way from his nipple directly to his cock and thrusts up instinctively, the thin cotton of his boxers already damp with his precum. Castiel starts stimulating his other nipple with his fingers, rolling it between them and thumbing over it all while his mouth continues its assault on the other. As he pinches one and pulls the other between his teeth, Dean’s hands fist in Castiel’s feathers. “Fuck, Cas.”

And that’s when Castiel’s wings join in on the fun, some of his feathers moving to fan over his chest while Cas continues his leisurely path down his sternum to his stomach. Cas kisses the soft flesh around his navel, his teeth nipping occasionally as his feathers stimulate Dean’s nipples. His mouth moves down, his lips burning on his left hip, sucking another mark into his skin before he kisses his way across the waistband of his boxers. Dean groans when he feels his cock nudge against Castiel’s chin, but Cas keeps going until he’s at his right hip, and Dean’s fighting every urge he possesses not to push his head down to get his mouth where he really wants it. After marking Dean’s other hip, Castiel’s palms push back up his chest, over his pecs, and slide into his hair as he positions himself back between Dean’s legs and captures his mouth all over again.

Now able to think again, Dean starts cording his hands through his feathers, moving from the inside of his wing outwards as far as he can reach, collecting each tiny sound of pleasure Castiel makes while taking notes of where he’s most sensitive. As he moves closer to the base of his wings where they attach to his back, Castiel’s lips drop open with a drawn-out moan and the familiar scent of crisp morning air and something sweet but unidentifiable fills Dean’s senses.

“Dean,” Castiel says urgently. Dean pauses and waits for him to say what he obviously needs to say. “Can I - can I see all of you?”

“You wanna take my boxers off?”

“Can I?”

Dean answers with a, “Mmhmmm,” pressed against Castiel’s lips. With their lips still connected in a fiery kiss, Castiel slides one hand down his side until he reaches his boxers and pushes the elastic band down. Dean feels arousal course through him as Castiel’s warm hand caresses the bare curve of his hip, and then Cas shifts so he can keep himself propped up, still kissing Dean as his other hand pushes down the opposite side of his boxers. Dean lifts his hips so his ass is exposed, and now his boxers are only caught on his substantial erection. Cas lifts the elastic band and his cock springs free, slapping heavily onto his lower stomach while Castiel pulls his boxers off completely.

Only then does he break their kiss to look his fill of where Dean’s cock is fully hard, jutting out proudly and hovering above his abdomen. When Cas looks up, he expects to see his gaze clouded with lust but instead, it’s filled with confusion. “Yours looks different than mine.”

Dean’s heart sinks into his stomach. Are they not as similar beneath their clothes as he thought? He swallows hard before he manages to say, “Good different or bad different?”

“Can I show you?”

Dean nods, and then Castiel is freeing himself from his loincloth. He pulls until the flap comes out of the part looped around his waist and then tosses the piece of fabric aside. Dean lets out a breath laden with relief when he sees that Castiel isn’t circumcised, but otherwise, there are no differences. Other than the fact that he’s pretty fucking _hung._ Not porn-star hung or anything, but he’s got a few inches on Dean and he’s nice and thick, too.

“Some humans look like that, too,” Dean explains. “I just have less skin.”

“It’s incredibly appealing visually,” Castiel says quietly.

Dean grins. “You’re one to talk. You’re fucking huge, Cas.”

Castiel looks down between them as if to size them up and then looks back up. “Is that good or bad?”

Dean feels desire coiling in his stomach when he thinks about that cock stuffing him full and answers, “Really, really good.”

“Can I touch you?” Castiel whispers.

“Oh hell yeah,” Dean replies excitedly.

Castiel swallows audibly. “I don’t really know how.”

“Same as you touch yourself.”

He breathes out a heavy breath, fear evident in his eyes, and nerves broadcasted by the way his feathers are fluttering. “I might be bad at it.”

Dean shakes his head and pulls him down the back of his neck. “Not possible,” he promises before he coaxes him into another kiss.

Slowly, tentatively, Castiel’s hand makes its way back down Dean’s body until Dean’s breath catches when he reaches the inside of his upper thigh. Castiel gently cups his balls, already drawing a sound of pleasure from his lips, then gently rubs his palm along Dean’s length to wrap his hand around the head.

“J-just like that, angel,” Dean tells him, his heartbeat already roaring in his ears.

“You’re so smooth,” Castiel comments, squeezing carefully, and eliciting another moan from Dean. His palm rubs over the tip of his cock, his finger tracing the slit, causing clear fluid to leak out. “You’re also quite wet.”

Dean huffs out a strangled laugh. “Only when I’m really turned on.”

“I do that to you?”

“You have no idea.”

“That’s extremely arousing,” Castiel confesses, trailing his finger through the precum now glistening on the head.

Dean inhales sharply, his hands landing on Castiel’s shoulders to give himself something to hold onto, and that’s when Castiel begins stroking him. The first time the circle of his fingers runs from the tip to the base and back up, Dean’s eyes slip closed and he focuses entirely on the unbelievable sensation of Castiel’s overly warm hand on his cock. The heat of his body is familiar and comforting now, but feeling it on his most sensitive body part is new and exciting and feels so damn good he’s completely helpless to do anything but buck into his fist as it moves down his cock.

Castiel sets a steady rhythm, which makes fucking into his hand as natural as anything, and when he feels Castiel’s mouth back on his neck, he threads his fingers into his hair to hold him in place while he rides his hand with a groan.

“Feels so good, Cas,” Dean praises him. “Can I touch you, too?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers. “I - I might not last very long.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean promises. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, angel. C’mere.”

Dean pulls him in and crushes their lips together, licking into his mouth and tangling their tongues together. He slides his hand down his side until it lands on his lower back, kissing him fiercely until he feels Cas relax into it, and only then does he bring his hand over his hip to brush along his cock.

Castiel calls out immediately, breaking their kiss to bury his face in Dean’s neck again.

“‘s’okay,” Dean says gently. “I got you, sweetheart.” He wraps his fingers around his thick cock and slides his palm down his length slowly, not wanting to overwhelm him with too much too fast.

“Dean,” Castiel whispers, already sounding lost with pleasure. He’s completely forgotten about stimulating Dean, but Dean doesn’t mind, continuing to thrust through his fist lazily as he explores Castiel’s dick with his fingers.

“Okay, Cas?”

Castiel nods against his neck and Dean kisses the side of his head, dragging his hand back up to the top of his cock to pull his bunched foreskin over the tip. Castiel makes a surprisingly high-pitched sound as Dean uses his foreskin to help jerk him off, letting the head of his cock slide in and out slowly. Castiel twitches against him whenever his head is exposed, bucking into his hand and making the same kinda sounds Dean’s heard him make in the back of the cave.

“Like that?” Dean asks him.

“More,” Cas breathes, taking Dean’s hand in his and helping him pull his foreskin down entirely before letting it slide back up. Dean picks up the slack, now knowing exactly how Cas likes it, and Cas releases his hand to brace himself on it instead, looking down to watch as Dean strokes him. “God, Dean,” Castiel gasps. “Feels - s-so good.”

Dean brings his thumb to the tip of his cock, grazing over it each time it’s exposed and drawing a needy moan from Castiel as he starts to thrust shallowly into each stroke. Dean looks up at his face, sees his mouth hanging open, and his eyes glued to the sight of his cock peeking in and out of Dean’s fist. The flush on his face spreads all the way down to his chest, and Dean lets his eyes drift down the chiseled abs that are currently flexing with each roll of his hips. He’s never been more aroused by a partner’s physical appearance in his life, and he feels desire churning low in his stomach just at the sight of him.

Both enjoying Castiel’s pleasure and desperate for some action of his own, Dean releases his cock and tugs him back down on top of him. Their cocks align with nothing between them, and Dean makes a happy sound low in his throat when he feels the heat of Castiel’s cock pressed against his own.

“Y-you’re cold,” Castiel stutters as he drapes his body along his to warm him up.

“Didn’t feel it, believe me,” Dean promises.

Castiel seems to take him at his word, kissing him messily, his mind obviously on other things as his palm sweeps possessively along the back of Dean’s thigh before he urges it up around his waist. _“Yes,”_ Castiel sighs against his lips when Dean brings his other leg up to wrap both of them around his lover. For the first time, Castiel’s hand slips past his waist down to his asscheek, and it’s Dean’s turn to moan when he feels his big hand pawing at his flesh.

“You’re s-so beautiful,” Castiel says before he captures his lips again, kissing him so deeply and so passionately Dean sees proverbial fireworks exploding behind his eyes. With a roll of his hips, he takes control of the pace, guiding Cas into a dirty grind that has sparks tingling up his spine. Castiel deepens the kiss further, dominating Dean with every vigorous swipe of his tongue as Dean’s hands wind through his soft hair. He can feel Castiel beginning to lose his rhythm, both in the way he kisses him and in how they’re not always thrusting at the same time anymore.

Dean wrenches his lips way to pant, “You close?” and Castiel nods as he, too, gasps for breath. Dean snakes one hand between them, through the precum gathered on his own stomach, and uses his slickened hand to wrap around both of their cocks.

“Ah!” Castiel calls out.

“Keep kissing me,” Dean begs him, and Castiel swoops down to grant his wish, his tongue diving back into his mouth while Dean begins to stroke them both. He groans at the heat of Castiel’s cock pressed so closely to his own, and when Castiel’s hand joins in, their fingers lacing around their cocks and surrounding him entirely in slick heat, Dean feels his impending orgasm approaching fast.

He whimpers against Castiel’s lips, kissing him even more fiercely as he bucks wildly into their entwined hands, chasing his release. He feels it building, that delicious promise of indescribable pleasure only making him more desperate for the main event. He can feel Castiel’s balls draw up tight where they’re pressed up against his, can feel his body temperature spike, and his muscles tense at the same time Castiel’s do. Castiel breaks the seal of their lips again with a growl, his head thrown back in pleasure. His wings spread wide with a loud _snap_ , arching up high over their heads at the very moment his cock pulses, and Dean feels wet heat explode between them.

The display of his angel’s wings and the sensation of hot cum spilling over his hand onto his skin has Dean locking up as well. Castiel surprises him by batting his hand away, dragging his big hand through his own release and then using it to finish Dean off, squeezing his cock _just_ on the good side of too hard, and his orgasm rips through him like a tidal wave.

He tosses his head back with his eyes squeezed closed as he paints his stomach with his release. He groans when the softness of Castiel’s wings descends around him in a cocoon, closing off everything but the two of them. Each breath he drags into his lungs draws in the heavenly scent of Castiel, who presses a lingering kiss to his lips before he flattens himself on top of him like before and scents him repeatedly. Dean’s arms are spread wide on either side of him with Castiel’s wings covering him to keep him warm, and he smiles when he begins cording his fingers through his feathers gently and gets a sigh of pleasure from Castiel.

It feels incredible to be pressed into Castiel’s nest, to have their softening cocks nestled together with Cas mouthing over his pulse point and Dean’s fingers in his feathers. Cas is weirdly light for a man his size - not even taking his wings into consideration - and Dean finds he loves that he can be smothered so completely by somebody without feeling like he’s being squished. He could probably -

“I think I could stay like this forever and be perfectly content,” Castiel says, his voice muffled against his neck.

Dean turns to press a kiss to his temple. “I was literally just thinking the same thing.”

He complains with a groan when Castiel shifts some of his weight and props himself up on his elbow so he’s only half on him, but the snarky comment he was going to make disappears on his tongue when Castiel uses his thumb to rub some of the clear fluid on his stomach into his skin. He bypasses the thicker cum, which Dean can only assume is his since he hasn’t come nearly as much as Cas has in the last 24 hours, but rubs each transparent drop he can find into his skin.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks, taking care to make sure his voice comes out curious and not judgmental.

Castiel’s eyes flick up to Dean’s. “Scent marking you.”

Inexplicably, heat surges through his veins. “Thought you did that with your face?”

“Does it really surprise you that my ejaculate would smell more strongly than my breath?” Then he pauses as something seems to occur to him. “I’m sorry. Is this weird? Do humans do this?”

“Not in my experience,” Dean answers truthfully. “But I dunno. It’s not that weird.”

“I - I don’t h-have to,” Castiel says, obviously taking care to stall his ministrations.

Dean squirms slightly, wanting to admit that he sorta likes it even though he knows it’s strange that he does. “It’s okay.”

“You want me to?”

“If it makes you feel better, then yeah.”

Castiel shakes his head. “It’s your body. Do _you_ want me to?”

Dean exhales but nods. “It’s probably fucked up on my part, but yeah, I kinda do.”

Castiel’s smile is breathtaking when he keeps going, rubbing each tiny drop of cum into his skin. He bends down to kiss the bruise that Dean knows is on his neck, once again reminding Dean of all the ways Cas has already claimed him, and arousal races through him once more. Cas must really like him to be marking him so much. The thought brings a smile to his face as joy explodes in his chest. Cas is doing everything he can to show other angels and other people that Dean is his, and it gives him a wonderful sense of belonging. Castiel inhales deeply, and when he pops his head back up, he’s smiling down at him knowingly.

“I can smell your happiness mixed in with your arousal,” he says, bending down to kiss him tenderly. “It’s coming off of you in waves.”

“So what?” Dean says defensively.

“It pleases me more than I can say that you enjoy cementing our bond as much as I do.” He says it so sincerely, with no undertones of teasing or judgement, that any shame he was beginning to feel dissipates entirely.

He rolls his eyes for good measure. “Yeah, yeah,” he says softly. “Can you get some moss to clean the rest of the spunk off of me before it gets all crusty?”

Castiel snorts with laughter and bends down to peck him on the lips once more. “I do so enjoy your way with words, Dean.”

Dean winks and Castiel leans over to find some moss to clean him up with a pink tinge on his cheeks. Dean’s not at all surprised when Cas lowers his mouth to kiss his way across the mess on his stomach before he wipes him up, and when their lips meet again, it’s with the musky taste of his own cum on Castiel’s tongue. It’s filthy and intimate and he loves every second of it, though he wouldn’t say it out loud. When Castiel tries to end their kiss, Dean just buries his hands in his hair and holds him in place until he’s had his fill, and now they’re both flushed with their eyes locked, and Dean’s wondering how fast he could get it up again when his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his stomach growling.

“Breakfast,” Castiel says firmly, passing Dean’s clothes to him one article at a time before standing up and winding his loincloth around his stomach. Dean watches with fascination while he ties it around himself and it isn’t until Castiel eyes him pointedly that he realizes he was staring the entire time and didn’t get dressed himself.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says again, and the sound of Castiel’s laughter brings a reluctant smile to his face while he tugs his sweater over his head.

He’s so screwed.


	12. Chapter 12

“What are those?” Castiel asks curiously, looking at the bag in his hand.

“Oats. For oatmeal.”

“I don’t know what oatmeal is.”

“It’s for breakfast. Figured it was something you could cook easily. All you gotta do is toss it in some boiling water and stir,” Dean tells him.

“I can do that,” Castiel says with a nod.

“Let’s get some water boiling and then I need to pee,” Dean confesses.

“Me, too. Just one minute.”

Like yesterday, Cas only lets him go as far as right outside the cave, and while he’s still reluctant to pee in front of him, he knows better than to argue about it. Cas waits for him to finish and then the two of them switch places, with Cas facing the wall and Dean watching his back.

“The couple that pees together stays together,” he mocks under his breath.

When they get back inside, Cas busies himself with getting bowls and spoons, and soon enough he’s scooping two heaping piles of oatmeal into their bowls. Dean’s trying not to laugh at the look of bland disinterest on Castiel’s face as he looks at the shapeless blob in front of him.

Since Cas is closest to his bag, he says, “Dig in there and pull out the bag with the brown stuff inside.” Castiel’s eyebrows draw together, but he rifles through the bag and eventually takes out the bag of brown sugar. “That goes on top of the oatmeal.”

“What is it?” Castiel asks.

“Brown sugar. Obviously you have a sweet tooth, so pile it on there if you want.”

“You first,” Castiel says, passing him the bag.

With a shrug, Dean adds a generous helping of sugar to his and then returns the bag to Cas. The oatmeal is steaming hot, so he blows on his spoonful before stuffing it in his mouth, humming at the sweet flavor that explodes on his tongue.

“You like it?” Castiel asks.

Dean nods as he chews. “Awesome for cold mornings.”

“Are you cold right now?”

“It’s a little chilly in here but probably just ‘cause you’re way over there,” Dean says with a small smile. He’s not that far away, just sitting across from him instead of next to him, but it’s far enough that his wings aren’t trying to wrap around him for once. When Castiel goes to move, he waves him off. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll tell you if I get too cold.”

“I’m sorry the cave isn’t warmer,” Cas apologizes. “I’m sure it’s not comfortable for you.”

“You can’t exactly control the temperature, and it’s not a big deal. I’m not that cold.”

“You probably shouldn’t even be out here,” Castiel says darkly.

Dean shrugs as he eats another bite. “I like bein’ here with you, okay? I’ll live.” He watches while Castiel takes his first bite, rolling it around on his tongue before nodding and going in for more. “I was thinkin’ though, what if we moved to my place?”

“To the cabin?” Castiel asks, which Dean nods to. “It isn’t safe for you to walk back right now.”

“I get that, but I didn’t bring enough clothes or food to stay here for three or four days either.”

“I could feed -” But he stops as something occurs to him and his wings start twitching.

“You don’t have enough food for two, do you?” Dean asks, having already figured it out.

“I can eat less,” Castiel offers. “We can make do.”

“No way,” Dean says, shaking his head forcefully. “We’re not doing that. I’m not eating the food you worked to store up for this.”

“But it’s dangerous for you to be out here alone right now. You heard what Gabriel said yesterday. Your scent lingers, Dean, and it’s so distinctly different than angels that it’s impossible to miss. If you go back to your car alone, you’re a walking a target and I am not okay with that,” he says fiercely.

“So walk with me.”

“I told you, I can’t. I can’t be out where people could see me.”

“Okay, but you said you fly at night to avoid being seen, right? So why don’t we wait until it’s dark and leave then?”

“I thought you said you can’t see very well in the dark,” Castiel says.

“I can’t. But you can.”

“You want me to fly you home?” Castiel asks him hopefully.

Dean laughs humorlessly. “No. I want you to carry me to the car and then fly behind me and meet me at home.” Castiel’s wings are really fluttering now, and he’s completely forgotten about his food. “Just think about it, okay? And eat your breakfast. You’re gonna need your strength for the next few days.” Then, thinking that sweetening the pot for Cas to join him at home can’t hurt, he adds, “I guess I’ll need mine, too, if you come home with me.” When Castiel’s eyes meet his, he gives him a little wink that causes a blush to spread across Cas’s cheeks.

Castiel pins him with an unimpressed look but eats like Dean urged him to. Around a bite, he says, “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope.” Dean smiles wide, hoping Cas thinking he’s adorable will work in his favor. “I wanna be able to help you out.”

“I’ve managed mating season on my own plenty in the past,” Castiel says, though he doesn’t sound entirely convinced by his own words.

“Yeah, but you said it was better with me, right?”

“Of course it is,” Castiel answers easily.

“And we’re courting, right? So it’s kinda my job to help you out.”

“You’re not an angel.” Castiel says it lightly, with no heat or malice behind it. “You didn’t sign up for this when you agreed to give me a chance.”

“I kinda did,” Dean disagrees. “If we’re together, and you said we are, then I signed up to be there for you _period,_ and that’s exactly what I wanna do. I can just do it a lot easier from my place.”

Castiel’s wings go back to quivering nervously but he doesn’t say anything. Dean lets him sit with it, waiting patiently for whatever rebuttal he’s going to come up with. Because he’s definitely thinking something over.

“I’ve never had a mating season outside of this cave,” he finally says. “It makes me feel safe to be here.”

“You don’t think you’d feel safe in the cabin? With me?”

“Of course I would, it’s just not the same as being at home.”

“Just think about it, okay? I can cook for you and you’d have an endless supply of water at your fingertips. You can lie in my extremely comfortable bed all day - with me,” he adds with a knowing grin. “I can read in the light or watch Netflix and not have to worry about freezing my ass off if I’m not by your side for two seconds. I’d have a bathroom and a shower, and if you needed fresh air, all you gotta do is step outside. Plus, you wouldn’t have to worry every time I left your sight. We’re both safe at my place.”

“You make some compelling arguments,” Castiel says reluctantly, but he still doesn’t say yes.

Dean takes a few bites of his oatmeal, and when Castiel doesn’t add anything else, he plays his final card. “You know what we talked about yesterday - how I can’t get it up as often as you’re gonna need me to?”

Cas looks confused until Dean gives him a significant look, then he seems to get it. “That doesn’t matter, Dean,” Castiel says empathetically. “I just want you to be there, whether you participate or not is irrelevant.”

“But I still feel bad that I can’t help in that way. Like I’m letting you down.”

“You’re not!”

“So taking care of you - feeding you, making sure you drink enough, rest enough, letting you scent me and mark me as many times as you need to - is all I can really do to help. I just wanna help you through this and being at home is the only way I know I can do that.” He says it earnestly, and though he’s only voicing these thoughts and feelings to get Castiel to join him at his cabin, that doesn’t mean they aren’t true. He means every word he says.

Castiel gives him a calculating look, but the second his lips turn into a small smile, Dean knows he’s got him. A smile spreads across his own face and Castiel holds up a single finger to stop him from saying anything. “I will try to walk you to your car tonight, but if there’s even _a hint_ of danger, you let me fly you to safety without a fight,” Castiel bargains.

Dean feels fear twist in his stomach. “I’m not joking when I say I’ll literally vomit.”

“If it comes to protecting you or having you vomit on me, I’ll withstand the vomit without complaint.”

“Fine,” Dean sighs heavily. “It’s a deal. But no overreacting!”

“I’ll be the judge of what’s overreacting,” Castiel says firmly, causing Dean to roll his eyes dramatically.

“Eat your oatmeal,” Dean says again, ending the conversation before Cas can clap back.

With both of them now concentrating on finishing their meal in a comfortable silence, it doesn’t take long until they’re both done. Castiel eats a second helping after Dean insists he’s had his fill, and by the time it’s gone, Dean can see a flush beginning to work its way across his face and down his chest.

It’s been about an hour since they were in his nest, and Dean’s both surprised and slightly concerned by how quickly he seems to be affected by the whole mating season thing.

“You okay?” he checks.

“Not really,” Castiel admits, which is a first for him. “Can we go back to the nest?”

Knowing that his scent and proximity helps, he gives his consent immediately by getting to his feet and making his way to the back of the cave. With the sunlight streaming in through the mouth, he can see more of the cave than he’s seen so far. There’s honest to god shelves built into the back of the cave. There’s a bunch of jars filled with what look like dried herbs or spices, a shelf for dishes (several bowls, one mug, a handful of utensils, a big wooden spoon, the small pot he used for Dean’s tea), a small stack of what he assumes is loincloths and the pants he’d offered to cut up for him, his wood carving tools, his cutting board, and his satchel hanging by the strap on the corner. There’s also a small stack of firewood, a bowl full of eggs, and to Dean’s complete confusion, two bundles of what looks like onions and garlic hanging from the roof of the cave on a massive hook.

As Cas comes up behind him, he slides his hand onto Dean’s hips at the same time his nose finds his neck, and Dean relaxes back against him as his wings surround him. “Now I know why this place smells like a farmer’s market,” he tells Cas, trying to ignore the worry of just how unnaturally hot his skin is against his, even through his sweater and his jeans.

“Because of the vegetables?” Cas asks, his voice lower than usual.

“I’ve never seen anybody hang vegetables from a ceiling before.”

“Really? It’s common for winter storage around here. There’s where the rest are buried in the ground,” he says, pointing to a patch of dirt. His fingers tighten where they rest on Dean’s hip bone, gripping him instead of just merely resting there now.

“Don’t pee there, noted,” Dean quips. “Did you make those shelves?”

“How else would I have them?” he says roughly. Dean huffs through his nose, realizing too late that it’s not like he could order them from IKEA. “I need you in my nest,” Castiel confesses, his voice like sandpaper. “Now, Dean. I’m sorry, but it’s - I _need_ it.”

“It’s all good, c’mon,” Dean says, moving to tug him along. Not surprisingly, Castiel scoops him up instead and carries him there instead. “Never gonna get used to how you pick me up like I weigh nothing.”

“You do weigh nothing.”

“I’m almost two hundred pounds.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me, but I assure you you’re a comfortable weight for me to carry.”

“How’s that work, anyway?” Dean says as he’s laid gently onto Castiel’s nest pillow. “How are you strong enough to carry me like I weigh nothing but also don’t weigh much yourself?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Castiel shimmies until he’s pressed against Dean’s back, his face pressed into the curve of his neck, and his hand pushing up his shirt to lie on the middle of his bare chest.

The weight of Castiel’s big, hot hand basically resting on his heart is strangely intimate, and it takes him a few seconds to remember what he was about to say. “Well, you’re almost as tall as me and built like a fucking brick house. When you lie on top of me, you should squish me, but you don’t.”

“I don’t have the answer to that for you,” Castiel says. “I didn’t realize my weight was odd.”

“Not odd,” Dean corrects. “Just different. And you gotta know by now I’m into that.”

“Mhmm. Can you take off your sweater?” Castiel replies suddenly, making Dean wonder how much of this conversation he’s actually absorbing. He complies though, stripping off his t-shirt as well since he knows how much skin-to-skin pleases Cas. Cas sighs happily as he winds himself around Dean. “Tell me if I’m getting too clingy.”

“Not possible,” Dean assures him. He had no idea until he met Cas how touch starved he’s been, but he knows now he’s nowhere close to getting his fill of the way Cas can’t seem to stop touching him. Right now, Cas has one hand drifting from his collarbone down to his navel and the other running through his hair lazily.

“I am absolutely enamored with your body,” Castiel confesses quietly.

Dean feels his heartbeat quicken. “Even my belly pudge?” he asks, trying to pretend he isn’t as affected as he really is by Castiel’s words.

“Yes,” he says simply, rubbing his hand over his stomach lovingly as if to prove his point. “And this little bit of hair here,” he continues, slipping his too-hot hand up to his chest and gently running the short hairs through his fingertips. “I’ve never seen that on anybody before.”

Dean stops as he thinks back about the other angels he’s seen so far - Metatron, Gabriel, Cas. None of them had any hair on their chests. Come to think of it, he’s never heard Cas mention anything about shaving either, and his stubble never really seems to grow past that 24 hour length, just long enough to scrape against his skin in the best possible way.

“You guys don’t have body hair,” he realizes.

“Some on my arms and legs and between my legs,” Castiel says, “but no. Not on our chests like this.”

“And your face?”

“Hm?” Castiel is currently busy dragging said face behind his ear.

“Your face,” Dean repeats, giving into the full body shudder Castiel’s hot breath on his neck inspires, grinning when Castiel laughs at his reaction. “Do you shave your face?”

“No.”

Imagine what it would be like to never have to shave? Dean’s insanely jealous. “You’ve never?”

“What would be the point?” Castiel questions.

“I dunno. To have a smooth face?”

“Nobody’s ever been close enough to my face to tell me they’d prefer it smooth. Would you?”

“Nah,” Dean answers without having to think about it. “I like you a little scruffy.”

“I don’t think I’ve been around you after you’ve shaved,” Castiel says, now moving his hand from his hair down to his face.

“I shaved the day before yesterday,” Dean says. He stops talking when his focus is stolen by the way Castiel’s fingers are tracing his jaw, his chin, and his upper lip. The soft pad of his thumb scraping its way along his two-day stubble is a heady feeling, causing butterflies to come alive in his stomach again. “So you can’t grow a beard?” Dean checks, struggling to keep his train of thought.

“I’ve never heard that word before.”

“It’s like long hair on your face. If I don’t shave, it’ll just keep getting longer and longer.”

Cas props himself up on his elbow to lean over him, so Dean rolls onto his back so he can get a look at him, too. Cas scrutinizes his face seriously for several seconds before he smiles. “I think I’d like to see that.”

“That can be arranged,” Dean responds, unable to keep an answering smile from his face when Cas is looking at him with so much fondness. Cas lowers himself back down, cupping Dean’s face as he tips Dean’s head back and brushes their lips together gently. Dean makes a soft sound of pleasure at the warmth of Castiel’s skin and lips pressed to his, which Cas must take as an invitation for more. He feels his top lip pulled between Castiel’s as he kisses him more firmly, his thumb stroking Dean’s cheek while he worships him with one indulgent kiss after another. Castiel’s erection is growing against his hip, but Cas’s kisses stay tender and full of affection. The only indication he gets that it’s difficult for Cas to keep it light is the hand not on his face. It’s hot and possessive on his hip, gripping tighter and tighter as Cas continues to kiss him.

Knowing that his scent helps, he slides his hand into Castiel’s soft hair and tilts his own head back further, urging Castiel’s lips to continue down his face and to the pulse point on his neck. His nerve endings come to life as Castiel’s mouth grazes over the bruise he sucked into his skin, his breath becoming ragged and his dick beginning to thicken between his legs. Castiel inhales deeply and rubs his cheek along his neck, scenting him before exhaling a heavy sigh.

“I wish I could make you understand how magnificent you smell when we’re together like this.” Castiel’s naturally low voice is rougher than usual, an exhilarating contrast to how gentle his lips are. “Your natural scent - that burning pine and sweet honey - gets heavier, hotter, more intense. There’s almost...” He pauses to press his nose to his neck once more. “Almost a smokiness to it when you get aroused, and I want to lap it off of every inch of your skin.”

Dean swallows thickly, trying to block out the images coming to mind of exactly that. He gives Castiel’s shoulders a little push, needing to see his face to determine how much of this is mating season and how much is Cas. His face is red, but not as red as he’s seen it get, and his eyes are dark with arousal but not glassy. Dean licks his lips nervously and confesses, “You’re way too good at this.”

“At what?”

“Overwhelming me...” Dean says, running his palm along the top of Castiel’s wing. “But in the best kinda way.”

“The same can be said for you, you know,” he says with a nervous smile. His voice is tentative when he continues talking, his words coming out slowly and carefully as if he’s agonizing over each one. “I feel so much when I’m with you, Dean, I don’t even know how to put it into words.” Dean leans up to kiss him, reassuring him that it’s okay to feel what he’s feeling. Cas seems both more calm and more emotional when he keeps talking. “All I want to do is get closer and closer to you, learn your body, your mind, and your heart in ways nobody else ever has. And a part of me is terrified every second we’re together that I’m going to do something to scare you away. That I want you too much, need too much, am too much...”

“You’re not too much,” Dean interrupts, waiting for Castiel’s eyes to meet his. “And I think being afraid to screw up is pretty normal, especially when this thing between us is so new and unlike anything either of us have ever done before. I know I’ve felt some of that too.” Castiel nods shakily, like it’s a relief to hear that he’s not the only one who feels that way. “I think I told you this before, and anybody who knows me would laugh if they heard me say this,” he admits with a grin, “but if we keep talking about it like we have been I think we’ll be okay.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way -” Dean mentally braces himself, having no idea what’s going to come after an intro like that. “- but I wish I hadn’t met you yet. I wish I met you once I came back after mating season, when I was in full control of my body and didn’t have to fight my instincts to roll you over and pin you to the nest every second we’re together.”

Dean lets out a small laugh, though in his mind’s eye all he can picture is how good it’d feel to have Castiel’s warm body draped over his back, his thick cock thrusting between his cheeks, and Dean’s face buried in a soft pillow of feathers. “Might’ve made some of this less intense, yeah.” Then an unpleasant thought occurs to him. “Do you, uh, do you ever wonder if you might not be attracted to me when your head’s back on straight? Maybe this whole thing is just because I’m a willing body to help you out with -”

“No,” Castiel says firmly, his eyes burning with the intensity of his denial. “You are much more than a willing body to me, Dean, and if I’ve made you think that isn’t the case for even a second, I apologize wholeheartedly. I promise you, when I can think straight, I am just as interested in your mind and your life as I am in your body.”

Dean nods and skirts his eyes away, not wanting Cas to see just how relieved he is to hear that. Yeah, he’s into Cas for his unbelievable body, too, but it’s impossible to deny in moments like this that it isn’t so much more than that. _Especially_ in moments like this, he thinks as he gathers his courage to look back at Cas, who’s gazing down at him with such an open expression he can literally see the wonder and admiration written all over his face.

“You’re gonna spoil me,” Dean says shyly.

“Spoil you how?” Cas asks curiously.

Dean shrugs a single shoulder, feigning nonchalance. “All your sweet talkin’ and the way you look at me like that.”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like...” He looks deep into those sky blue eyes and hears the words roll off of his lips before he stops to think about them. “Like I’m the only thing you can see.”

“It seems like you see me quite clearly as well,” he says before he leans down to kiss him. It’s slow and lazy, dragging on and on with one press of their lips after another until Dean feels so full of - of _something -_ that he worries he might actually burst. When Cas pulls away some undetermined amount of time later, he says, “Spoil sounds bad. _Food_ spoils. I won’t spoil you. I’ll just continue to adore you the way you deserve for as long as you’ll let me.”

Dean’s lips quirk as he attempts to lighten the mood with a joke. “You’ll get sick of me sooner or later.”

“I suppose it’s possible,” Castiel relents, his tone of voice conveying that he thinks the very thought is ridiculous. “But if I were a betting man, I’d bet against it. How could I get sick of these adorable freckles of yours?” he teases, tapping each of his cheeks in succession.

“Oh my god,” Dean complains heavily, hating the blush he can feel heating his face. “You start waxing poetic about my freaking freckles and you’ve officially crossed over into corny territory.”

Castiel smiles wide, even though Dean knows he probably doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “I was only trying to get you to laugh, though I actually _do_ like them quite a bit,” he says airily, dragging his hand along his freckled shoulder and dancing his fingers down to his stomach where there are more dotted around his navel.  

Dean tries not to squirm where he tickles him and instead comments, “You’re cooling down again.”

Castiel nods. “I feel more like myself. Being close to you helps.”

“Maybe you won’t go all crazy this time ‘cause I’m around?” Dean wonders.

“I really don’t know. I can’t imagine not having the urge, especially with you here tempting me, but I’m also surprised by how easily I went from feeling like I was going to need release soon to feeling okay. That’s not typical for me once I hit a certain peak.”

“Guess we’ll see then,” Dean says. “I’m glad you’re feeling okay for now though. Think we could get up and do something or do you wanna stay here?”

“I still feel the need to keep you close,” Castiel admits. “But what could we do?”

“I dunno what kinda battery I have left on my phone, but I downloaded a couple movies we could watch if you wanna do that? That way we can stay here but not just lie here doing nothing.”

“I’m quite content to lie here and do nothing, but if you want to watch a movie I’m okay with that, too.”

Dean nods. “Alright, you lie here and get your snuggle on, and I’ll watch a movie.”

So that’s exactly what they do. Castiel acts as the chair with Dean between his legs and leaning back into him, Castiel switching between hooking his head over his shoulder to watch with him and pressing his nose into his neck. He wraps his wings around Dean and offers them up as a shelf for Dean’s phone, which is handy as hell, because now he can hold hands with Cas with one hand and rake his fingertips through his feathers with the other.

It’s a damn good way to kill a couple of hours as far as he’s concerned, and by the time the movie is wrapping up, Cas has moved on from scenting his neck and holding his hand to sweeping his big hands up and down his sides, over his stomach and chest, and kissing trails across his shoulders. Castiel’s dick is hard and pressed into the small of his back, and Dean’s been aware of his temperature climbing steadily for the last half hour, so he isn’t at all surprised when his hands move down caress the inside of his thighs.

Dean exhales all in a rush as he feels his cock plumping up again. He drops his head back against Castiel’s broad shoulder and closes his eyes when Cas sucks on the hickey already on his skin. “It’s been what, five hours?” Dean asks rhetorically.

“Mmhmm,” Castiel says, his voice rumbling against his neck and along his back where he’s pressed against his chest. Castiel’s palms drift inwards, his thumbs brushing along either side of his erection, making him squirm beneath his hands. “Is this okay?”

“You hear me sayin’ no?”

“Just checking,” Castiel says, the relief audible in his voice. “I was going to struggle with tearing myself away from you.”

“Don’t then.”

“Can we take these off?” Castiel asks, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of Dean’s jeans.

“Long as you keep me wrapped up in your feathers, yeah.”

His button is pulled through the hole and his zipper is lowered, and then Dean lifts his hips in offering as Cas begins to push his jeans and his boxers down. He sits up to take them off entirely once they get to his ankles, glancing over when Castiel’s loincloth joins the pile of his clothes with a quiet _plop_. He scoots back into place carefully as Castiel’s wings come back around him, feeling the burning hot line of Castiel’s cock press between Castiel’s stomach and his back. Castiel goes right back to running his hands over his body, first in big, circular motions, but gradually slowing to pay attention to smaller details: the ladder of his ribs, the jut of his hip bones, the slight swell of his stomach, and the hard planes of his chest.

Castiel’s fingers skate over his nipples frequently enough that Dean’s pretty sure he’s being teased, and so when they finally flick over them purposely, he bites down on his bottom lip to keep from making a sound. Of course, his muscles tense in a fruitless attempt to stop his body from reacting, and Castiel’s soft hum of satisfaction has his chest arching into his touch before he can stop himself.

“You’re gorgeous, Dean, absolutely gorgeous,” Castiel says hoarsely.

Dean’s voice is tight and sounds every bit as needy as he feels when he responds, which makes sense since he can literally feel his cock thicken further from the compliment. “Shut up.”

Castiel huffs out a laugh that lands on the shell of his ear, sending a wave of goosebumps over his flesh that hardens his nipples even further. Castiel hastens to take advantage of it, flicking over them several times before they’re rolled between his thumb and forefinger in tandem, causing Dean to thrust forwards into nothing as his head lolls on Castiel’s shoulder.

One massive hand makes a direct line down his sternum, past his stomach, and between his legs. His breath hitches in anticipation when he thinks he’s finally going to get Castiel’s hand on him, but instead, he urges his legs apart. Dean plants his feet on the nest pillow and lets his legs fall open, his breath catching in his throat all over again when Castiel’s warm hand slides down to cup his testicles. Cas rubs them gently as his thumb continues to stimulate Dean’s nipple, and when Dean makes a low sound of pleasure, Castiel takes it a step further and takes his balls into his palm entirely, caressing them just right. His fingers find the seam between his testicles and Dean can’t help but moan when they begin to slide up and down the length of his sack, his fingers so warm it would feel like a tongue if it wasn’t for how dry they are. Once his fingers reach the bottom, he tugs on his sack perfectly and Dean can feel a hot burst of precum drip down his cock.

Castiel exhales sharply and his mouth latches onto his neck when he tugs again, this time using his thumb to stroke the taut skin as he holds him in place, making Dean whimper with just how good it feels. Two thick fingers start sliding down, rubbing along the sensitive skin between his balls and his ass, and as he squeezes his eyes closed tight, a desperate sounding, “Oh fuck,” slipping from between his lips.

“Dean,” Castiel answers with, the pitch of his voice low and sultry. He doesn’t stop his ministrations, stroking his perineum with an easy expertise that causes Dean to writhe with the delicious sensation of _so good_ but not quite enough. Like Cas can read his mind, his other hand abandons his nipple in favor of joining the party, and when he _finally_ wraps his long fingers around Dean’s cock after so much build up, it takes everything in him not to come then and there.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean sighs, already bucking into his fist.

“There you go,” Castiel says, beginning to work both his cock and his sack simultaneously. Dean’s mouth is hanging open, and a wrecked sound pours out of him when he feels feathers start drifting over his chest. Castiel’s lips are pressed to the bolt of his jaw, his breaths coming out dewy and hot on Dean’s skin. Dean couldn’t stop the way his hips roll up for anything. It forces his straining cock through the circle of Castiel’s fingers and his front teeth dig into his bottom lip as Cas says, “Like that, Dean. Take what you need.”

“Y-you -” Dean protests weakly, still bucking into his fist.

“I am the luckiest angel alive to see you like this, touch you like this,” Castiel finishes for him, his voice sounding every bit as wrecked as Dean feels. Castiel’s knuckles press into the underside of his balls, forcing another dribble of precum to escape his slit, the wetness instantly spread down his cock with Castiel’s big hand as Dean lets out what can only be called a moan of pure pleasure. “That’s it, Dean,” Castiel coos again. “Just like that.” His gentle encouragement said in that sex voice of his is making it feel like lava is running through his veins, and when Castiel’s teeth scrape over his bruise at the same time his thumb rubs over his frenulum he knows he’s not gonna last.

His body is suddenly covered with his feathers, Castiel’s wings draping over him from neck to hip, all of them fluttering over his skin and making thousands of nerve endings come alive as every sensitive spot from stomach up is stimulated all at once with soft, teasing, feathers.

“Cas,” Dean gasps. Castiel only increases the pressure around his cock, jerking him faster now, his wrist twisting the tiniest little bit and sending Dean’s arousal into a fever pitch. “Cas, f-fuck,” he stutters, his orgasm pooling rapidly, low in his groin. Desperate for something to ground him when he feels like his body’s about to tear into a million tiny pieces, he grapples blindly for something to hold onto and finds only feathers.

His fingers sink into the wings surrounding him so naturally, and when Castiel lets a dirty groan loose, Dean feels it light the spark of the fire building inside of him. Castiel’s wings tighten around Dean, some of his feathers brush the underside of his cock and he jerks _hard,_ grabbing the feathers in his hands and pulling them down to his crotch where he thrusts through Castiel’s hand and the soft plumage now surrounding him all at once.

 _“Dean!”_ Castiel grits out, and Dean comes like a rocket.

“Unnngh,” he moans with his teeth clamped together and his head pressed back against Castiel’s shoulder. The intensity of his orgasm lifts his ass right up off of the nest pillow as his cum shoots into Castiel’s wings, over his hand, and onto his stomach. The feathers quivering around his sensitive cock only extends his pleasure, and he comes again and again, holding his feathers in place while he pushes his cock through the sticky softness over and over.

Between one shaky breath and the next, Castiel flips him over onto his stomach. He feels a thick cock pressed along his ass crack for a single exhilarating moment before Castiel puts some space between them. He’s trying to make his brain work enough to get the words out to give him the okay for this, but before he can, he smells the thick, familiar scent of fresh air and wood shavings at the same time Castiel sighs with pleasure, and when his cock presses along the cleft of his ass again, it’s slick this time.

“Fuuuuck,” Dean groans, so blissed out he could die happily right here and now, with the head of Castiel’s cock riding the crack of his ass and his lips pressed to his neck.

“Dean,” Castiel whispers into his skin.

Two hands cover his - one warmer than the other and slippery - and his fingers slot between Dean’s. The tender gesture when he knows Castiel is likely only moving on instinct at this point melts him to his core.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean goads him gently, still trying to catch his breath. “Wanna feel you come. Wanna feel you mark me with it, angel.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before Castiel’s fingers tighten on his and he locks up with a shuddering sigh. Like last time, his wings unfurl with a _snap,_ arching high over his head, looking majestic and powerful as fuck even though Dean can only half see them from his current position. Dean’s hips and spent cock are pressed into the nest pillow with Castiel’s final thrusts as he spills onto Dean’s ass. His spunk drips hot and wet between Dean’s cheeks and slides down to his balls, dragging a deep groan from Castiel’s throat that reverberates through his entire body. Once the pressure lets up, Dean turns his hands over so their fingers can slot together for real, and he feels a soft press of lips to his neck, another one to his cheek, and finally, a lingering kiss to his temple.

As he’s come to expect, Castiel’s body collapses on top of him as his wings deflate, and Cas hums happily as he brushes his thumbs over the backs of Dean’s knuckles. Dean’s mind is blissfully blank, floating in the afterglow of the best damn hand job of his life. All he can smell is sex and Castiel, all he can feel is soft feathers and the warmth of his angel, and if it wasn’t for the quickly cooling patch of cum beneath him and all over his ass, he’d probably be comfortable enough to fall asleep all over again.

As it is, he waits in his happy bubble until he can feel Castiel’s breath evening out. Then, ready to break the silence and get out of the sticky puddle of his cum, he says, “Hey Cas?” Cas answers with a distracted sounding hum. “How do you get jizz off of your nest pillow?”  
“Very carefully,” Castiel answers dryly, surprising a huff of laughter out of Dean.

“Feels gross,” Dean complains.

“I suppose I should be a considerate boyfriend and clean you up, then.”

“It’d be nice,” Dean says, smiling with his face smushed into the nest pillow. He likes hearing Cas call himself his boyfriend.

“Two more minutes,” he murmurs.

“No falling asleep.”

“Shh,” Castiel answers, making him laugh again.

He gives him what feels like two minutes, only knowing he didn’t fall asleep because of his fingers still brushing his knuckles tenderly. Castiel lets out a huge sigh, and then gets up to wipe up his back and his ass with some moss. Then he rolls him over like he doesn’t weigh a thing and cleans up his stomach and flaccid penis efficiently without a hint of embarrassment. For Dean’s part, he feels oddly shy about the intimate gesture, and closes his eyes in an attempt to feel less affected. Only when Cas is finished does Dean open his eyes, and he immediately grimaces when he sees a distinct blob of what has to be cum across the top of Castiel’s left wing that’s currently folded behind his back.

He clears his throat awkwardly, and when Castiel’s eyes find his, he smiles sheepishly. “I, uh, kinda came all over your wings.”

Inexplicably, Castiel smirks, looking incredibly pleased with himself (and sexy as hell). “I noticed.”

Dean huffs with embarrassment, getting the feeling Cas isn’t understanding the problem here. “There’s jizz all over your feathers, man.”

“I figured as much.”

“I probably shouldn’t have done that,” he says in lieu of an apology. “I didn’t even ask.”

“I could have stopped you quite easily,” Cas says, now wiping his own stomach down.

“Won’t it get all stuck in there now?”

Castiel huffs out a small laugh. “If I was going to leave it there, yes, but I have no intentions of doing so.”

Apparently they’re both sufficiently clean now, because Castiel lies back down and pulls Dean into his arms again. Dean’s happy enough to snuggle into his nook, but he still has more questions.

“How’re you gonna clean it out if you can’t get your wings wet?”

“Wing oil,” Castiel answers. “It’s how I always clean my wings.”

Dean props himself up onto his elbow, intrigued by this little bit of new information. “Where does wing oil come from?”

Castiel quirks a brow. “I feel like the answer here is obvious.”

“Shut up,” Dean laughs. “Obviously it comes from your wings but _where?”_

Castiel grins and leans up to press a kiss to his lips. “There’s preening glands at the base of my wings where they attach to my back.”

Dean lets that sink in for a second, remembering what he read about preening glands and that birds have them at the base of their tails. But Cas doesn’t have a tail. “How do you get the oil out?”

“Just stimulating the gland causes it to begin to flow. I collect the oil on my fingers and use it to groom my wings.”

He can’t picture it but he wants to know more about it - more about Cas - and there’s only one way to learn. “I dunno if this is weird or not - but can I see it?”

Castiel smiles softly and strokes his cheek with one of his alula feathers. “It’s not weird, and yes, I’ll show you if you get off of my wing.”

“That means I’m gonna need to put clothes on,” Dean says as Castiel moves away from him.

Castiel already has his boxers and jeans in his hand by the time he gets to his feet, passing them to him while he stands there buck naked. So he doesn’t get lured into staring the way he did last time, he looks away while he gets dressed, slipping back into his long-sleeved shirt and fleece sweater over top of that. Castiel winds the loincloth back around his waist and between his legs, then turns so his back is facing Dean.

“Probably best if you get on your knees,” Castiel instructs.

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” he replies, smirking as he follows his instructions and falls to his knees. Castiel’s wings spread out obligingly, but Dean still can’t see anything on his back.

“You’ll probably have to part my wings at the bottom in order to get a good look,” Castiel says.

Dean grabs a hold of each wing closest to where they attach to his back but pauses once he applies gentle pressure and they don’t budge. “They supposed to move this way?” he checks.

“They’ll be fine, you can pull them apart.”

Dean nervously strokes the tips of his feathers that hang down. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Castiel says, and Dean’s sure he can hear his smile. “Go ahead.”

So, Dean pulls, reminding himself of breaking a wishbone (though he sincerely hopes no breaking happens here). Once the pressure he applies is more firm, his wings lift up a little bit and he can hold his feathers down to see past them to his back. He can smell Castiel’s signature scent with his very first breath in, but there’s something a little bit different about it now - something _else._ But he forgets all about that when he sees them, two glistening nubs. They’re about the width of his thumb but only stick out about a quarter of an inch. The more he looks at them, the more he thinks they kind of look like large, skin colored nipples.

“Can I touch one?” he asks tentatively.

Castiel’s wings start fluttering, slipping out from his fingers, and just like that, Dean has a face full of feathers. He sputters as they stick to his dampened lips and Castiel turns around and sits back down in the nest next to him with a smile on his face.

“My apologies, Dean, I didn’t mean to shove my feathers in your face.”

“Yeah, you look real sorry,” he says sarcastically, sitting cross legged in front of him.

“Even though it was an accident, it was slightly comical,” Castiel admits, smiling bigger now, and how can Dean stay annoyed with him when he looks that cute?

“Guess you didn’t want me to touch ‘em, huh?”

“Not at the moment,” Castiel confirms, “but I’m not against the idea entirely.”

“Was just kinda curious about the wing oil,” Dean admits, trying to keep the pout off of his face.

“I can help with that,” Castiel tells him, slipping his hand behind his back, closing his eyes for a brief moment, and then bringing his hand back in front of him, now with oil on his fingers. “Go ahead,” Castiel says, offering his hand out for Dean.

Dean reaches out to run his fingers along Castiel’s, making a sound of surprise at how smooth the glide is. The first thing that comes to mind at the sensation is melted candle wax, but it’s slippier than that, kinda like a mixture of wax and lube. His eyes dart up to Castiel’s as it suddenly becomes clear how his dick was so slick between his ass cheeks before. “You use this for lube?”

“Lube?” Castiel repeats.

“Lubrication.” Castiel looks back at him blankly. “You know, for sex? Slick yourself up?” Still nothing. “To get your dick wet, Cas,” he says, exasperated.

Castiel’s face cracks on a grin. “I knew what you meant all along,” he confesses, beginning to laugh outright now as Dean’s expression quickly turns to one of irritation.

“You’re a jerk,” Dean tells him. Castiel’s nose scrunches up as he keeps laughing and Dean softens immediately at the sight, sure he’s never seen anything more endearing in his life. Before he can think better of it, he’s got a hand on the back of Castiel’s neck and is pulling him in to kiss him. He can feel the curve of Castiel’s smile against his lips, causing something to take flight in his chest. Castiel should always be this happy and carefree, he realizes, and even if all he did to make it happen was allow Cas to make a joke at his expense, it feels damn good to be a tiny part of anything that makes this angel laugh.

When Dean pulls away, Castiel’s wings wrap around him to keep him in place. Castiel’s eyes are still dancing with laughter, and he pecks Dean on the lips once more. “I annoy you and get a kiss out of it?”

“It’d take a stronger man than me not to kiss you when you smile like that,” Dean says, smiling a little himself at the admission. Then he figures, fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound. “You should always look this happy, Cas.”

Castiel’s eyes go from amused to so unbelievably soft Dean has to duck his head as a myriad of good feelings wash over him. Castiel’s feathers tip his chin up, and he kisses him again. This time, he slips his tongue into Dean’s mouth, and they meet in an leisurely dance that steals Dean’s breath. He’s half on his knees, so he steadies himself on Castiel’s shoulders, knowing he can take his weight without budging and feeling heat race through him when he’s proved right. Their mouths glide together sweetly, trading kiss after kiss, making Dean feel like this thing between them - whatever it is - is something different. Something awesome. Excitement mixes with joy, rushing through him from head to toe, and they keep right on kissing until Castiel makes a desperate sound in his throat and pulls away to scent along Dean’s neck.

“You should always smell this happy,” Castiel says.

Dean grins shyly as he sits back down, knowing his sappy thoughts are out there whether he keeps them to himself or not. “All I can smell is you. Crisp morning air and wood carvings.”

Castiel cants his head to the side. “Wood carvings? That’s strange. I haven’t carved anything in days. Haven’t had the concentration.”

Dean turns his lips downwards into a mouth shrug. “You always smell like that. And there’s a little something different when you let me touch your wings, though I haven’t figured out what it is yet,” he says, sweeping his hands over them with an expectant smile.

Castiel flushes as a look of understanding crosses his face, and then he raises his fingers to Dean’s nose wordlessly. Knowing what he wants, he gives them a sniff, and just like that, it all clicks into place. Well, most of it. “It’s your wing oil that smells like that something different,” he confirms.

“It seems that way, yes. And it does makes sense. Every time you touch my wings I can feel my glands filling with oil,” Castiel says. “I don’t understand why, though. They don’t react like that when I touch them. I specifically have to stimulate the gland.”

“You wings have always had a soft spot for me,” Dean supplies, and Castiel’s smile spreads as he nods.

“That’s true. They knew much earlier than I did,” Castiel acknowledges.

“Knew what?” Dean wonders.

Castiel’s only answer is a coy smile that Dean finds himself replaying in his head several times during the rest of the day. What does Cas know that he doesn’t know?


	13. Chapter 13

Castiel’s mood remains light and playful for the remainder of the afternoon. Cas seems more surprised about it than anybody, repeating again and again that in the past he’d been moody and irritable during mating season. Dean takes full credit for the change, much to Castiel’s amusement, but he gets Cas to admit it’s true after he coaxes another orgasm out of him a few hours after the last one. With Cas allowing him to use wing oil, Dean was able to straddle Castiel’s hips while he brought him to the edge with his hand over and over again before he finally let him come. Watching Castiel give himself over to him completely even when he’s clearly the stronger of the two of them had been unbelievably hot, and it took all of his willpower to save his orgasm for back home.

Which is where they’re headed now. If Cas would ever frigging _go._

The sun’s gone down, he’s packed his bag, Castiel just blew his load a half hour ago, and sadly, his good mood is beginning to sour. He’s been switching back and forth from pacing the cave and mumbling bitterly under his breath to scooping Dean up into his arms or pinning him against the wall while scenting him. Every time Dean talks it through with him they end up coming to the conclusion that going to Dean’s cabin is the best course of action... only for Castiel to start pacing and muttering all over again a few minutes later.

“That’s it,” Dean says, hooking his bag over his shoulder. “If I watch you pace this cave one more time I’m gonna lose my shit. Let’s go.”

“But it isn’t -”

“Don’t even say it,” Dean interrupts, knowing exactly what he’s about to say. “It’s pitch dark out, Cas. I’m going with or without you.” It’s a lie, but Cas doesn’t have to know that.

“You’re infuriating,” Castiel says under his breath.

Dean just about chokes on his tongue. _“Me?_ You’re seriously saying _I’m_ the infuriating one right now?”

“Yes! You’re unbelievably stubborn!”

“You’re just as pigheaded as I am,” he tosses back. Castiel frowns, and Dean can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he thinks about the meaning of what he just said. For whatever reason, the familiar expression softens him, and he walks over to Cas to sweep his hands up and down his arms. “I know you’re freaked out and that the mating season thing is making this a million times worse for you, but we’re gonna be okay, Cas. You’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna be okay.” When Cas opens his mouth to argue, Dean silences him with a look. “You’re never gonna let anything happen to me and I’m never gonna let anything happen to you. We got this, okay?”

Castiel pulls him into his arms, scenting along his neck while his wings surround him, too. “I’ve never been more frightened,” he admits quietly. “You - you mean so much to me, Dean, and if we go outside right now and any other angels scent you... I’m scared for you, I’m scared about how I might react, how far I’d go to protect you.” Dean can hear it when he swallows, and his voice is a whisper when he says, “I’m scared.”

Dean turns until his lips connect with his temple, then cups his jaw with his palm. “I know, angel.” He holds him close while his mind whirls to come up with a solution. “Will it make you feel better if you carry me? You can wrap me up with your wings nice and tight, then maybe that’ll help block some of my scent from getting out?”

Castiel nods, his blue eyes so somber you’d think they were walking into a war zone. “Yes, I think that might help.”

“Awesome. Anything else we need to do here before we go, then? Anything you need to bring with you?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, just you.”

Dean smiles and leans in to brush their lips together. “You’re stuck with me now. Let’s make like a banana and split,” he adds, throwing Cas a wink that earns him an eye roll.

They decide to leave his crutches behind so Cas can hold him extra close. Dean is once again hefted into Castiel’s sturdy arms and the two of them start their journey to the Impala. Castiel’s wings wind around him in a protective cocoon, but they remain tense and weirdly stiff, which actually matches Castiel’s body language pretty well. His muscles are rigid and his eyes dart in a repetitive pattern of left, center, right.

Despite Castiel’s rigid body, Dean’s fairly comfortable in his arms. He figures they’ve been walking for just over a half hour the first time Cas freezes. He knows just based on the look on Castiel’s face that he shouldn’t move or say a word, so he sits in silence for what feels like a really long time with his head on Castiel’s shoulder until he starts walking again.

Dean sits up straighter and Cas makes eye contact, mouthing, _shhh._ Dean nods and tries to soothe Cas’s fear by brushing his thumb over the back of his neck. He relaxes incrementally but doesn’t say anything for a while.

They’re probably about half way back to the car when Castiel quietly says, “There was another angel nearby, but he flew away.”

“Huh. I didn’t hear anything and usually your wings flap pretty loud.”

“He was quite a distance away.”

“Figure we’re in the clear now?” he wonders.

“It would be unusual but not unheard of for an angel to be this far out at night,” Castiel responds.

“Think you can relax your feathers a bit, then? They’re kinda pokey like this.”

They relax immediately while Cas shoots him an apologetic look. “I didn’t realize they were uncomfortable for you.”

“No big deal,” Dean assures him, lying his head back on his shoulder and fighting off a yawn. “We almost there?”

“Nearly.”

Being surrounded by the familiar softness and scent of Castiel’s wings, the rising temperature of his body, and the rhythmic movements of Castiel walking step by step has Dean slowly but surely falling asleep in his arms. He can feel his eyelids drooping, the alluring pull of sleep dragging him under time and time again as he tries to fight his way out, but he gives up entirely when Cas gives him the okay in the form of a kiss on top of his head.

It feels like only a second has passed when the welcome scratch of Castiel’s scruff starts moving across his jaw and up behind his ear, a tantalizing contrast to his pillow-soft lips as they flutter against his skin. “Dean.” Castiel’s voice is smooth as honey despite how deep it is. “We’ve arrived at your car, sweetheart.”

Dean’s lips quirk as something in his chest warms. “Sweetheart, huh?”

“That’s an endearment you mentioned before, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dean answers, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “How long was I out?”

“Not long.”

Dean pulls out his keys to unlock the door he was pressed against a second ago, shoving them into the ignition and starting the car. He looks over at the time on the dashboard and does a double take. If his guess was right about how long they’d been walking, they made the last half of the trip in less than five minutes. He turns his head back to look at Cas and sees him skirt his eyes away.

Even already knowing the answer, he asks, “How’d we get to my car so fast, Cas?”

Castiel’s lips quirk before he says, “I’ll meet you at the cabin,” and he disappears in an instant with the tell tale _whoosh_ of his wings.

He feels nerves twist uncomfortably in his stomach but pushes them down as he puts the car into gear. If he doesn’t know for sure that Cas flew off of a fucking mountain with him in his arms, he can pretend it didn’t happen. Even the very _thought_ has bile rising in his throat, so he decides resolutely that it must not’ve happened. He would’ve woken up. Definitely.

As he pulls the car out of where he parked and onto the dirt road, he tries to ignore the memory of how Cas was able to lift and settle him down into the nest so easily he barely felt like he was moving at all...

When he puts Baby into park in front of his cabin, he can already see the flames of the fire Cas started reflecting in the window. He has to fight the smile off his face when he walks into the cabin to his boyfriend standing in front of the fire, smiling sheepishly with the shadow of his wings spreading along the walls.

“I started the fire since I knew you’d be cold,” Cas says needlessly.

“Don’t think you can get out of this conversation by looking cute.” Dean’s pretty sure they both know that he already has, and his thoughts are proven when Castiel’s smile stretches wider.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Castiel lies. Badly. But he also takes a few steps closer to him, and now Dean can see how red his face is.

“You doin’ okay?”

“I’m looking forward to having you in your bed.”

Dean’s dick absolutely does _not_ twitch at the way that sounds. “Let me brush my teeth and take a quick shower and I’ll meet you there.”

Castiel frowns but nods, and since Dean can see he doesn’t want to be away from him for even that long, he erases the distance between them to wrap his arms around his neck and kiss his worries away. He lingers, letting their lips come together again and again as he begins to lead him back towards his bedroom. Cas wraps his wings tightly around Dean and allows himself to be pushed, deepening their kiss by dragging his tongue along the seam of his lips. Dean’s helpless to do anything but let him in, and by the time they reach his bedroom, they’re making out. Hands roaming, tongues tangling, and quiet sounds of pleasure already escaping both of them as if they haven’t been doing exactly this all day.

Cas stops once the backs of his knees hit the mattress, and Dean has visions of pushing him onto his back and straddling his hips right before he’s lifted and spun in the span of a second, and then it’s him who’s landing flat on his back with a creak of mattress springs. He doesn’t even have the huff of laughter out before he’s got a lap full of horny angel, grinding down on top of him and pushing his sweater to the side to latch onto his neck.

_“Jesus.”_

“The nest doesn’t smell like us.” Castiel growls each word one by one in between feasting on his skin. “I need - Dean - it _has_ to.”

Dean nods as he pulls Cas in by his hair, desperate to have their lips together again. As their mouths meet, he feels his dick filling rapidly while Cas keeps gyrating his hips on top of him. Dean’s hands come up to rest on them, his thumbs pressing into the notches of his hip bones, holding him in place while Dean plants his feet and starts to thrust up against him.

Cas pushes his hot hands up Dean’s shirt and onto his bare skin. Dean arches into his touch, greedy for the sensation of feathers to flutter onto his stomach too, until he realizes he still has several layers on. Cas seems to come to the same realization because then Dean’s being tugged up into a sitting position while Cas divests him of his shirts one at a time. After the sweater and the long sleeve come off, Castiel actually _snarls_ while he practically tears Dean’s t-shirt up and over his head. Dean’s laughter is echoing off of the cabin walls right until he’s pushed back down by his shoulders and feathers rain down onto his body.

“Oh fuck,” Dean gasps just before Castiel claims his lips with his own in a searing kiss that leaves his mind blissfully blank of everything but Cas. He lets his hands travel along Castiel’s muscular back, feeling his muscles rippling beneath his hands and his feathers soft above them. He drags his fingertips down slowly, inch by inch, until he gets two firm handfuls of Castiel’s ass and moans into his mouth.

“Off,” Castiel pants, releasing his shoulders in order to free Dean from his jeans and himself from his loincloth. When they line up again there’s nothing between them, and Castiel wastes no time reaching behind himself to stimulate his oil glands. Dean gets a single enticing whiff of Castiel’s scent before the breath is stolen from his lungs by the slick slide of Castiel’s warm hand along his shaft.

Castiel breathes in deeply while his eyelids flutter shut, and Dean gets up to his elbows to kiss the look of rapture on his face. Those thick eyelashes resting on the apple of his cheek, his chest rosy and teeth digging into his plump bottom lip. His heart thunders in his chest as he takes over nipping at Castiel’s lips. “You’re so damn gorgeous.”

Castiel hums into his mouth and presses him back into the mattress, kissing him deeply as he begins to move between Dean’s legs. It’s a cacophony of sounds in his bedroom as they begin to rut together in earnest. Dean’s overwhelmed by how how seamlessly they fit together, Castiel’s cock slotting alongside his just right while their testicles rub together with each frantic push forward. Feathers flick over Dean’s nipples, causing his jaw to slacken and Castiel to move his burning lips down his face and to his neck instead. One of Dean’s hands winds into his hair to keep him right there and the other finds its home on his firm ass cheek, drawing a moan from Cas as his fingers sink into his supple flesh.

Cas drags his hand up the inside of his thigh before he guides it around his waist, then switches hands and does the same to the other. They’re pressed together much more closely now, the feel of it familiar but heavy all at once while their soft skin and hard lengths rub together again and again. Dean’s hand leaves Castiel’s ass to loop around his neck, drawing their mouths back together and forcing their bodies to align as closely as possible from lips to hips. With his arms and legs wrapped around Cas, all he can do is hold on and take every possible moment of pleasure from his lover.

Castiel’s skin is hot against his, their combined sweat making their chests glide as easily as their cocks now trapped between their bodies and against each other. The bed springs are still squeaking as Castiel presses him into the mattress again and again, their lips fused together, Castiel dragging him closer and closer to the edge with every thrust of his hips. His lungs are burning with the need for oxygen, but still he whimpers in complaint when Cas breaks the seal of their lips. With their foreheads resting together, Dean can hear the hitch in Castiel’s breath and see on his face just how close he is, and it sparks the fire inside of him, too.

“Gonna come for me, angel?” Dean pants.

Castiel’s eyelids flick open and suddenly Dean is falling into a sea of blue. Drowning in Cas, in the feelings inside of him that are building so much faster than logic tells him they should. He’s sinking like a stone, falling harder than he ever dreamed he was capable of, and the breath leaves his lungs all at once when he realizes he doesn’t want to stop. “Castiel.” His name comes out as a hoarse sound, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, and as he feels himself go completely under, he spontaneously gives his heart over to the man on top of him. “I’m yours, Cas.”

Those blue eyes he’s trapped in go from dark with lust to warm with affection so quickly Dean feels the breath of air he just took in punched right back out of him with the next thrust as he comes like a tidal wave without any warning at all. His head tilts back on a sharp cry of surprise as his orgasm is ripped out of him all at once, his body locking up almost violently as he erupts between them. _Jesus fuck_ that feels good, pleasure continuing to surge through him until he’s sure he can’t take anymore.

The slickness of Castiel’s oil has nothing on the sticky warmth of cum that Castiel thrusts through now, and a drawn-out moan from Cas proves just how much he's appreciating the new sensation. Dean blinks confusedly as he feels some of the warmth leave his body, but then his mouth goes dry his eyes focus to see Cas pushed up to his knees and pumping his cock roughly. His jaw is unhinged, his eyes dance between Dean’s flushed face and the almost clear puddle of cum splashed into his stomach and groin, and the second they make eye contact again Castiel’s body jerks.

Dean reaches blindly for his wings on either side of his body to help him through it and gets two hands full of feathers, earning himself a roar from Castiel as he shoots all over his stomach and chest. Dean continues to cord his fingers through them until he’s spent, taking pride from every single sound he works out of him.

Instead of falling flat on top of him like he’s come to expect, Castiel kisses his neck and slowly makes his way down his body, following his nose to lick up Dean’s cum from his body. Dean feels fire coursing through him as he watches his long tongue lap up his release, Castiel’s fingers dancing along as he goes, rubbing what Dean knows must be Castiel’s cum into his skin. Only once he’s as clean as a tongue can get him does Castiel move down the bed further.

Dean’s heart struggles to find its rhythm as Cas buries his face between his legs, and he groans when he feels breath tickling his pubic hair. Castiel’s tongue traces the crease of his leg, his breath hot and damp along Dean’s spent cock. Cas breathes in deeply but moves along to his other leg to give it the same treatment as his eyes flick up to Dean’s.

They’re so fucking blue, heavily lidded with his post-orgasm haze, but Dean can still see the arousal flare in them again before he slowly lowers his face to dip his nose in Dean’s wiry hair and takes a big breath in. Castiel’s cheek then slides up the length of his semi-hard cock, making it twitch with a gallant attempt at a round two already, and he actually whimpers when Castiel’s hot breath hovers against the tip of his cock. Castiel inhales heavily one final time before slowly kissing a wet line up to his belly button, and then Dean grabs him by his hair and drags him up for a dirty kiss.

He can taste the bitter flavor of his own release on Castiel’s tongue and sucks on it greedily, getting another porn-star moan from his boyfriend before he finally collapses on top of him.

There’s a few minutes of silence while Dean’s chest heaves and he tries not to think about how unbelievably close he was to having Castiel’s mouth on his dick, which actually turns out to be pretty easy once his brain loses the ability to function when Cas speaks a few seconds later.

“I think I’d like to try oral sex,” Castiel says evenly.

He’s grateful that Castiel’s face is pressed to his neck because he misses the way his mouth opens and closes several times before he can make his lips move how they need to in order to form any actual words.

“Your heart’s beating awfully fast all of the sudden,” Castiel comments, and Dean can hear the fucking smirk in his voice.

“Bet you don't sound that smug after you send me into an early grave,” Dean replies, his voice having come back to him now.

Castiel laughs as he props himself up to press an easy kiss to Dean’s lips. “The nest smells like us now.”

“I smell like a whore house,” Dean says. “I really need to shower.”

“Two more minutes,” Castiel bargains, and Dean rolls his eyes at the familiar response while his lips quirk, which Castiel obviously takes as permission considering he settles back down onto him.

Dean takes the time to run his fingers through Castiel’s wings softly, rubbing his feathers between his fingers one at a time, mindlessly fixing any that aren’t facing the right way as he goes. Though he didn’t think it was possible, Cas melts into him even more, going completely boneless as Dean works his way across the top of each wing.

When Cas pops his head up some time later - much later than the two minutes he asked for - his hair is an adorable mess, his eyelids are still heavy, his cheeks are pink, and he has an adorable soft smile on his face that causes Dean’s heart to tumble in his chest. Castiel’s hand settles on his face before he kisses him soundly, causing Dean’s own eyelids to droop closed as he loses himself in the happy, floaty feeling currently seeping into every bone of his body.

When Castiel pulls away (sooner than Dean would have liked) he looks every bit as sated as Dean feels. “Do you still want to have that shower?”

He nods even though everything inside of him tells him to stay where he is. “You wanna come with me? We can probably keep your wings out of the water.”

“How?”

“Removable shower head,” Dean answers. When Castiel looks like he’s about to refuse, he gives him his best, thousand-watt smile. “Come on, don’t you wanna put your hands all over me when I’m wet and naked?”

Castiel’s eyebrows arch. “That’s an option?”

“Could use your help. Haven’t had anybody wash my back for a while.” Castiel’s eyes flash hot and Dean wiggles his eyebrows. “Can make it worth your while.”

“My hands on your back is always worth my while,” Castiel answers, getting up slowly. Still naked, Dean takes his hand and leads the way to the shower, bending over to get the water turned on to heat up.

“I can already tell I made the right decision,” Castiel says, and Dean looks over his shoulder to see his eyes trained on his ass. He snorts and gives his butt a wag, making Castiel laugh lightly, too. He pulls the curtain back and steps in, adjusting the shower head so it’s spraying right down.

“Come on, angel.”

Castiel steps in tentatively, his left wing staying out and going around the shower curtain, and his right wing tucking up behind his back so he can fit between Dean and the wall. He can’t turn entirely to face Dean the way Dean would like, but this is still good.

“Okay?” he checks.

Castiel nods, but his feathers are twitching, so Dean reaches out to take his hand in his as he steps back under the hot water. He tugs him a little closer, and Cas comes willingly, his eyes sweeping up and down Dean’s body as the water cascades down it. He tips his head back to wet his hair, and giving into the need to have Cas even closer, he presses Castiel’s palm to his chest. The second he straightens out his neck Castiel’s lips are on his, and he exhales with a sound of surprise that makes Castiel’s lips curve into a smile and breaks the kiss only moments after it started.

“I like your shower very much,” Castiel says.

“How are your wings doing?” he checks.

“So far so good,” Castiel says. “Though some things are worth getting wet for.”

Dean’s lips stretch into a smile while he reaches for the shampoo. “Put _that_ on a bumper sticker,” he quips.

Cas frowns, but gestures to the bottle in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Shampoo and body wash combo. Washes my hair and body.”

“Like soap?”

“Yeah, but this smells better,” Dean tells him. He pulls the hand away that Cas still hasn’t dropped from his chest and squirts some onto his palm. “Wanna do the honors?” Castiel looks at him curiously. “Just rub it into my hair.”

The shadow of his wing gets bigger behind the shower curtain and Dean smiles, knowing he’s fluffing up even if he can’t exactly see it. “There's no way this doesn't count as grooming,” Castiel says, but he doesn’t hesitate at all before his fingers are massaging his scalp as he works the shampoo into a lather. His warm, nimble fingers feel so unbelievably good in his hair that Dean can’t help the quiet moan that ripples through his lips. He’s smiling when Cas tips his head back and rinses the suds out, turning his head this way and that to ensure it all washes out, and then their lips come together again while Dean squirts more body wash into Castiel’s hand.

Castiel pulls away with a question in his eyes, so Dean takes the initiative to grab his hand and starts rubbing it over his chest. “Need you to clean me up, Cas,” Dean tells him, his voice husky from the steam billowing around them and Castiel’s hands on his body. “Since you made such a mess outta me.”

“I’m nowhere near done making a mess out of you,” Castiel promises darkly, but his hands sweep over his pecs anyway. “This soap smells very good and quite masculine, but nothing even remotely close to how good we smell together. The first thing I’m going to do when I get you out of here is rub myself all over you.”

Dean nods his permission automatically as Castiel’s hands lower to his stomach, rubbing circles over his hips and between his legs. Dean holds his breath as his hand moves even lower. Apparently Cas has no hang ups over handling Dean’s flaccid penis as he cleans between his legs, along the creases of his legs where he’d scented not so long ago, and even under his balls. Without warning, Cas spins him around so he’s facing the water, and Dean exhales on a soft moan when he feels his lips on the dimples of his shoulders and his soapy hands on his ass.

“I’m really enjoying this,” Castiel admits as his fingers slip between his ass cheeks. Dean barely represses another moan but lets his head fall back in ecstasy. “Your body is my every dream come true.”

“Lies,” Dean says easily. “You dreamed of an angel.”

“Only until I met you,” Castiel replies, his voice earnest as he crouches down to wash his thighs and calves. “Now nothing and nobody could hold a candle to your beauty.”

“Jeez,” Dean complains, embarrassed.

Castiel pops back up and speaks directly into his ear from behind. “I will tell you how beautiful you are every single day until you believe me.”

Dean swallows down the thickness coating his throat and says, “I’ll start believing you when you believe me.”

“About what?” Castiel asks.

“Your wings. I _love_ your wings, Cas.”

“And I love your body,” Castiel says, his hands drifting up to return to his shoulders. His voice has dropped to a low whisper when he adds, “I love all of you.”

The words are much too close to the ones he barely managed not to think about during his moment of clarity in bed, and without knowing what to say to it, he leans back into Castiel’s warmth so his arms can encircle him. The water’s only hitting his left side now, but it’s hard to care when he can feel Castiel’s hard body framing his own, taking his weight like it’s nothing.

“Already told you I’m all yours,” he manages to say.

Castiel’s lips brush his neck before he says, “It’s incredibly difficult not to have you in my wings right now.”

“I miss ‘em too,” Dean admits. “Let’s finish off in here so I can be a burrito again, k?” As he straightens up he feels the unmistakable poke of Castiel’s erection against his hip. He glances down quickly to confirm that’s what it was and then looks over shoulder at him. “Seriously?”

“Did you really expect anything less after asking me to put my hands all over you while you’re wet and naked?” Castiel asks, his eyes twinkling.

“Oh, to be young again,” Dean says with amusement. Castiel laughs and the sound causes something to float up inside of him, prompting Dean to press their lips together briefly over his shoulder. “I’ll help you with that before we get out, or you’re just gonna come all over me anyway.”

“Which would ruin the point of a shower.”

“Exactly.” Dean grabs the shower head off of the wall and uses it to rinse himself off before stepping closer to Cas. “Your turn.” He brings the shower head close to his body so he doesn’t get his wings wet and starts with his chest. Immediately, his nipples pebble and Dean realizes too late that this water temperature is probably cold for his warmer body. “Shit - is this cold for you?”

Castiel shrugs. “It’s not hot, but it’s nowhere near as cold as the lake is right now. It’s refreshing.”

“You tell me if it gets too cold, okay?”

Castiel nods, and once his front is sufficiently wet, Cas bows his head so he can wet that too. Dean’s fascinated by the rivulets of water running down the slope of his nose, the droplets collecting on his eyelashes, and how they drip off of his sharp chin. He kisses each spot - his nose, his eyelashes, and his chin - with his heart in his throat before he slicks his hair out of his face and hands him the shower head. “Hold this.”

Dean grabs the body wash again and rubs his hands together, meeting Castiel’s eyes in a silent question before he lifts his hands to his hair. Castiel doesn’t stop him, so now it’s his turn to work the shampoo into a lather in the wild hair he loves so much. With Castiel’s warning of, _There's no way this doesn't count as grooming,_ echoing in his head and the serious expression now on Castiel’s face, Dean feels a sudden heaviness in the air around them. He grins to himself as he pushes past the moment by shaping his hair into a mohawk and kissing the pinch between Castiel’s eyebrows when he clearly doesn’t understand what’s so funny. “I made your hair stand up like this,” Dean says, pointing his fingers together.

Castiel chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re like a child.”

“You just figuring that out now? Too bad I already hooked ya,” Dean grins. He gets an adorable gummy smile for that, and asks Cas to duck his head again when his heart stutters in his chest just looking at it. With Castiel’s hair and upper body sufficiently cleaned, Dean finally turns his attention to Castiel’s waiting erection.

Making sure his hand stays far away from the head of his cock (been there and done that with the stinging soap in places that should never _ever_ sting), he starts off by soaping him up much the same way Cas did for him. Of course, having his cock hard and eager in his hand makes this a much different experience for Cas, and his breathing comes out fast and hard before Dean’s even started really started jerking him off.

He’d planned to spend a lot of time on this. He had thoughts of running his slick hands along his perineum and maybe even back to his ass to see what he could get away with, but much to his disappointment, the water’s starting to cool off and Cas is clearly not in the _let’s drag this out_ state of mind. He only lingers to fondle his balls for a minute or two before he takes the shower head back from an already panting Cas and puts it directly between his legs, holding it a few inches from his balls. Castiel’s eyes go wide for a split second before they slam shut, and Dean can’t even begin to hide his smirk when he widens his stance and opens his legs without prompting.

“Fuck you’re perfect,” he breathes.

Castiel moans while he continues to clean off his balls with the shower head, and then Dean holds it up to the underside of his dick while he starts to pump his cock loosely in his hand. He wishes he’d thought to bring lube in here, but he’ll definitely grab it for next time. Castiel’s teeth are digging into his bottom lip, though, so he obviously isn’t complaining. Dean leans down to take their place with his lips, groaning when Castiel’s hands lift to his head to hold him where he wants him while his tongue thrusts hard and fast into his mouth.

He increases the pace of his hand, matching it to the frenzy of their tongues tangling together. With the water pressure pulsing steadily on his frenulum and Dean’s hand working to get him to the finish line, it isn’t long at all before his fingers clamp down roughly on his shoulders, letting him know he’s almost there. Dean has visions of Castiel’s spunk landing on him pulse by pulse, hot and dirty, and drops to his knees before he can think better of it.

He glances up at Cas, licking his lips when he thinks about how much Cas is gonna get off on this, and smiles lavishly. “I’m only down for this in the shower, so don’t get any ideas for later.” Castiel’s eyebrows are pinched together in confusion again, but Dean erases it with eye contact and a frank, “I want you to come on my face.” Castiel’s jaw drops, his cock pulses in Dean’s hand, and it’s only two more strokes before he does what Dean wants him to.

The first streak of cum splashes across Dean’s left cheek and Castiel’s gasp of surprise quickly turns into the dirtiest moan he’s ever heard in his fucking _life_ as his cum starts dripping down his face. The next glob hits his chin, and then he finally spills across Dean’s lips. He makes eye contact again as his tongue darts out to lick it up, and in a flash, Castiel is on his knees in front of him, smashing their lips together. Dean indulges him for several long seconds before he starts to feel gross with cum all over his face and has to pull away to tug him to his feet. He puts the shower head back where it belongs and rinses off his face in the now cool water before turning it off entirely.

“Dean... t-that... that was...” Castiel tries to say, but then he drapes himself along Dean’s back as his legs seem to give out, and Dean grunts as he takes his weight. He isn’t overly heavy, but he wasn’t expecting it, and on top of that, he can feel his wings twitching violently - probably with the urge to wrap him up.

“Okay, baby, let’s get back into bed, okay?”

“I-I need...” Castiel stutters.

“I know, Cas. I know what you need. Come on.”

Dean steadies Cas on his feet, then whips the shower curtain open and grabs a towel off the rack to press to Castiel’s chest before grabbing one for himself and drying off his upper body. He rubs it over his head to dry his hair and wiggles it down his back before wrapping it around himself. He barely has it tied around his waist before Castiel has him in his arms and is carrying him into the bedroom with his wings surrounding him tighter than ever. Apparently he’s recovered.

“What if I wanted to walk?” Dean jokes, but he kisses him on the bolt of his jaw while he says it so he knows he isn’t really complaining.

He’s laid down on the bed and on top of Castiel’s feathers, and he’s already smiling in anticipation over what he knows is about to happen when Castiel’s face goes directly to his neck to begin scenting him. Dean wriggles on top of his feathers, knowing that helps too, and Castiel chants his name as his lips and hands quickly but tenderly map his body: both sides of his neck, his wrists, his chest, his hair, and right back down to the creases between his legs.

Finally satisfied, Castiel turns him onto his side and makes Dean the little spoon, kissing him once more behind his ear. He inhales deeply, causing goosebumps to spread along Dean’s skin, and says, “Now you smell like me.” He hums happily and corrects, “Now you smell _right.”_

Lost for words at the implication that the two of them together are right, Dean kisses his knuckles before he twines their fingers together. He uses his other hand to play with his alulae absentmindedly, enjoying their closeness and the way Cas can’t seem to stop nuzzling into him. After what feels like a long time, he says, “Let me know when you feel okay for me to put some clothes on and get you something to drink, okay, angel?”

Castiel hums disapprovingly and says, “Uh-uh. Never put clothes on again.”

“Cas,” he chuckles, somehow not at all surprised by that response.

“At least until mating season is over.”

“Still no, you perv.”

“Dean,” Castiel whines. That sound has way more of an affect on Dean than he’d like to admit, but he tries not to let it show.

“Shirt can stay off but lemme sleep with pajamas or sweat pants on at least,” he bargains.

“No,” Castiel says simply, pulling him against him more firmly.

Dean laughs again, but he wriggles away since he knows he’s joking. He pulls a pair of grey sweatpants out of his dresser and steps into them - ignoring Castiel’s sigh of protest - and walks into the kitchen to get them each a bottle of water. While he’s in the kitchen, he grabs a couple of bananas to bring back in with him too, wanting to make sure Cas keeps up his strength.

“A banana?” Castiel asks as he walks into the bedroom. He’s still buck naked, leaning back against the headboard like he belongs there - which prompts Dean to realize he does.

Dean tosses one of the bananas to him to cover up the mushy expression that he can feel coming to his face. “Gotta keep your strength up. Pretty sure you’re gonna need me overnight.”

“I’m sure that’s true. Thank you, Dean.”

“You wanna put some pants on?” Dean asks.

Castiel frowns. “Why?”

“Because your naked ass is distracting and I think if I come again today I might actually die.”

Castiel smirks but says, “Well, we can’t have that. I’m happy to put my loincloth back on, though.”

“Easier to just put some pants on,” Dean says with a one shoulder shrug. He grabs a pair of black sweatpants out of his drawer and passes them to Cas. “Here.” Castiel still frowns, so Dean says, “I kinda have a thing for my boyfriends wearing my clothes.”

 _“Boyfriend,”_ Castiel corrects pointedly, snatching them from him. “It’s no longer plural.”

Dean smiles knowingly. “You really don’t gotta be jealous, Cas.”

“I’m not jealous,” Castiel says stiffly, getting to his feet to step into Dean’s pants. “I’m simply letting you know that I don’t enjoy hearing about how you had _a thing_ for anybody but me.”

God, he’s adorable with how hard he’s trying not to be jealous. The scowl on his face, his twitching wings, and stiff shoulders give him away though.

Dean drops his banana on the bed and pulls Cas into his arms, bringing his nose to his neck. “Hey, Cas? Who do I smell like?”

Castiel scents him, dragging his face along his neck greedily, and answers, “Me.”

“Who’d I ask to suck a big ass bruise right into my neck for everybody to see?”

“Me,” Castiel says, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders as his lips brush that spot.

“Whose feather am I sleeping with every night when I’m wishing you were here instead? Who’d I miss so much in just a few days that I couldn’t stop myself from comin’ after you? Who’d I exchange rocks with, Cas?”

Castiel lifts his head, pushes up to his toes and wraps both arms around Dean’s neck before kissing him soft and slow. Dean melts into him several seconds later when he feels his big hands on either side of his face, cupping his jaw so tenderly he has to fight back a whimper. When they break apart, Cas brushes the backs of his fingers down his cheek, smiling sweetly at him.

“I’m sorry.”

Dean shakes his head. “Don’t be. I know this is gotta be hard for you.”

“I knew what I was getting into when this started,” Castiel says.

“But still. I know you probably dreamed of being with somebody who’s never touched anybody but you, and I kinda hate that I can’t give that to you.” He feels guilt trying to claw its way out of him and it’s suddenly impossible to look at Cas. He deserves better. He deserves to have a mate all to himself the way the other angels do.

His thoughts are interrupted when Castiel tips his chin back up. “That isn’t as important as everything else.” Cas must see the emotions warring in his eyes, because he kisses him once more, softening his resolve. “It isn’t as important as how you make me feel.” His lips quirk slightly when his wings come around him. His eyes are impossibly blue when he adds, “How we fit.”

Dean exhales shakily, trying to swallow down the overwhelming warmth bubbling up inside of him. “Don’t deserve you,” he says quietly. “You should be with -”

“You and only you,” Castiel interrupts him.

Dean shakes his head again. “Cas -”

“It’s too late to change my mind,” Castiel says, cutting him off again. “You already hooked me, remember?”

“But -”

This time Castiel places a finger against his lips to shush him. “I thought you wanted to feed me and keep me hydrated?” he says, raising a single brow.

“I do. Shut up,” he says with a roll of his eyes that’s a poor defense against everything he was just feeling. He shrugs Castiel’s hands off of his shoulders and pulls back the covers on the bed. He tries to bury those unwelcome feelings - of not being enough, not being good enough, not being what Cas deserves - as he climbs in under the blankets.

“Dean?” Castiel says, slotting in beside him. Dean pushes up enough so Castiel's wing can slot behind him, but he looks down at his banana instead of at Cas. He can tell by the tone of his voice that he isn’t going to let the things he just said go as easily as he wishes he would. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Dean repeats, aware that his voice is all wrong and that’s answer enough. “I’m fine, Cas. I’m just worried about you.”

While usually it’s Dean who ends up snuggled up on Cas, Castiel now lifts Dean’s arm and slings it around his neck so he can lay his head on Dean’s shoulder. “I know that’s not true,” he says, his voice gentle and non accusatory. His hand rests on Dean’s chest and Dean covers it with his own without even thinking about it. Having Cas in his arms, having him close like this, is one of his favorite things, and it settles some of the panic that had been swirling inside of him. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but I promise you, even if I had the choice to be with someone else, I would still be right here with you.”

He might not understand why Cas would choose him, but he can definitely relate to the sentiment. “Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he answers, kissing his forehead. “Just, uh, had a minute there wondering what the hell we’re doing.”

“I have them sometimes, too,” Cas admits. Dean feels a new panic start to creep in, but Cas erases it as fast as it started. “But then I remember how it feels to have you in my arms or in my wings and those thoughts don’t really seem to matter in comparison.”

Dean squeezes his hand, and now actively trying to lighten the mood, he says, “Especially not when I’m here to remind you to sit your ass up and drink your water.”

“I’m quite comfortable at the moment, thank you very much,” Castiel replies, not moving.

“No more sex until you eat that banana and finish that water bottle,” Dean threatens. Though as soon as he says it, he realizes... “Y’know, you’re not even that warm right now.”

“You just brought me to completion twice in a row.” Dean snorts and Cas continues, “Not even only that. I’m in my boyfriend’s bed that smells like us, pressed up to your bare chest, wearing your pants, and about to eat food provided for me by you. Every mating instinct I have is sated and fulfilled because of you.”

“Huh.”

“Why is that surprising? You’re a very attentive boyfriend, you know.”

“Guess I kinda thought you’ve been wanting to fuck me this whole time,” Dean says, grinning.

Castiel’s feathers go _nuts,_ twitching and fluttering and puffing up all at once, and he basically _bolts_ out of Dean’s arms to sit back against the headboard again. Dean’s still grinning over Cas knowing _that_ phrase of all things when Castiel reaches for his water bottle and downs half of it all at once. Dean takes the opportunity to peel his banana and take a too large bite, chipmunking it in his cheek.

“Fine. Since you brought it up, every mating instinct is fulfilled save for one,” Castiel grumbles a few minutes later.

Dean can’t keep the smile off of his face when he bumps their shoulders together and says, “There’s always next mating season.”

Cas ducks his head with a blush on his cheeks, and whatever little bit of unease remaining from earlier floats away into nothingness as he leans over to kiss him with his mouth still full of banana - and promptly gets shoved away with a gummy laugh from Cas that makes his heart soar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reader made up this great drawing of Castiel that I wanted to share! Big thanks to [Cindy!](https://twitter.com/cinders0381_) :)


	14. Chapter 14

“Dean? _Dean?”_

“Mmmf?” Dean answers, blinking his eyes open. As Cas comes into focus lying inches across from him bathed in the yellow light from his lamp, he realizes what must have happened. “Fell asleep,” he mumbles. The two of them had been curled up in bed talking about their childhoods. Dean opened up more about his dad’s drinking problems than he has with any partner in the past, and while Cas doesn’t understand alcoholism, he was sympathetic without being over the top. It was weirdly… _okay_ to talk about it with Cas. The last thing he remembers is Cas telling him a lighthearted story about his dad teaching him how to fly, but he doesn’t know if he nodded off before Cas was totally done. “Sorry.”

Castiel smiles indulgently as he brushes his fingers through his hair. “Don’t apologize. You must be exhausted if you just dozed off like that. And it’s late. Do you want to turn the light out and go to bed?”

He squints, trying to assess how Cas is doing based on how red his face is, and when he can’t tell, he lifts his hand to press it to his face. He’s warm, but still not too hot. “You okay?”

“I’m feeling quite well. I think I’ll be able to get a good chunk of sleep tonight here in your bed,” Castiel tells him.

“Awesome.” Dean rolls onto his back to stretch but stops when he hears Castiel inhale sharply.

“Membrane,” he groans, and Dean sits up entirely.

“Crap, sorry.”

“It’s not a lingering pain, don’t worry,” Castiel says, also sitting up now.

Dean glances over to press the home button on his phone to check the time, sees it’s almost midnight and decides he’s more than ready to go back to bed. “I gotta brush my teeth and use the bathroom. You wanna borrow a toothbrush? Bought one just in case the last time I went to the store.”

“Sure. I’ll try it your way.”

“Gonna be way better than chewing on sticks,” Dean guarantees him, leading him into the bathroom.

“I can see you’re not getting over that anytime soon.”

Dean chuckles, thinking back to his reaction to that conversation and knowing he’s right as he grabs him the blue toothbrush he picked him. He passes it to him while Castiel’s wing settles around his back. “Matches your eyes,” Dean says with an exaggerated wink.

“How sweet of you.”

Dean smiles wide at his dry tone of voice. “Don’t forget it.”

He uncaps the toothpaste and squirts a little bit onto Castiel’s brush, then does his own. He begins brushing, watching Cas’s reflection as he sniffs at the toothpaste. Dean snorts softly and Castiel’s eyes flick up to his where they meet in the mirror.

“Is this mint?” he asks.

“Mmhmm,” Dean says with a mouthful of toothpaste.

That seems to erase Castiel’s remaining trepidation, and he shoves the brush in his mouth with pinched eyebrows as he begins to brush. The crease on his forehead dissolves almost immediately, and he nods his acceptance to Dean, his eyes framed with happy little crinkles.

He feels that thing inside of him again, causing his eyes to dart away from maintaining direct contact with Cas while he hocks out a mouthful of foam. It’s the same way he felt when their eyes met when they were fooling around earlier, and he tries his best to shake it off. He doesn’t want to get all sappy with Cas - not when he still doesn’t understand how this is ever going to work between the two of them - but when he glances over at Cas while he spits into the sink shyly, his heart stammers anyway.

It’s this domestic crap, he thinks. Apparently he’s unable to stand here at the sink with Castiel’s wing wrapped around him without daydreaming about how this might be kinda nice to do again tomorrow, and maybe the next day, too. Now that he’s thinking about it, he should buy two more spare toothbrushes to keep in the cave for when he’s there next instead of having to bring them back and forth all the time. Now that Cas has used the brush, he’s pretty damn sure he’s not gonna go back to sticks.

His thoughts carry him all the way through brushing his teeth, and he and Cas both take turns rinsing and spitting before Cas says, “I need to go outside before bed.”

Dean frowns, unsure if he means he needs to use the bathroom or needs to rub one out. He glances down at his crotch and he seems fine, so Dean says, “You know you can use the bathroom in here, right?”

“I don’t know how it works,” he admits, his wings starting to flutter with nerves.

“Cas, babe, you just gotta ask and I’ll explain this stuff, okay?” he reminds him patiently. “Toilets are easy. You do whatever you gotta do in it, use the toilet paper there to clean up, put it in the toilet, then press this handle here to flush it all down.” He grabs a single square of toilet paper, lets it float into the bowl, and presses the handle down to show him.

“Where does it go after it disappears?” Castiel asks.

“Goes down the drain to an underground sewer system to a, uh, treatment facility. It’s... treated…” he stumbles, not really knowing much about that part, “with chemicals and stuff and then is filtered back into the lakes.” Castiel looks an amusing mix of surprised and disgusted by the idea. “Totally sanitary,” Dean assures him.

“If you say so,” Cas says hesitantly.

“K, you do your thing in here, I’ll grab us some more water and put some towels in the bedroom so I don’t have nasty sheets when you hump me all night long, then we can switch. If you have any problems in here let me know, and don’t be embarrassed. I swear, police officers deal with bodily fluids almost as often as daycare workers, so I’m practically immune to it.”

Cas thanks him and Dean takes off to do what he said he would do, and it’s only a minute later when he hears the toilet flush and the sink turn on. Oddly proud by Cas figuring out the toilet and the sink without him, he plants a quick kiss on his lips when they pass in the tiny hallway before Dean empties his own bladder. Then he’s climbing into bed beside Cas, flicking the light off, and settling into his nook on Castiel’s shoulder with two fluffy wings wrapped around him.

“I’m still not completely over how comfortable this is,” Castiel says, obviously commenting on the mattress.

Dean’s thinking more along the lines of having Cas to sleep with when he answers, “You’re not the only one.”

Cas starts to say something, then laughs softly when he realizes what he must have meant. He gets a kiss to the top of the head and Dean snuggles in even closer. “How will I ever get used to sleeping alone again?”

“Don’t,” Dean answers without thinking.

“That sounds wonderful,” Castiel answers, making Dean’s heart swell.

“Wake me up if you need me, okay?”  
“I was just about to say the same thing. I hope we both sleep better than last night.”

“Me, too.” Dean tilts his head up to meet his lips in a firm but sweet goodnight kiss that stretches into several more kisses when Cas’s warm hand slides into the back of his hair. When they break apart, Dean’s sure the butterflies in his stomach are going to fly right out if he opens his mouth.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

“‘Night angel.”

Because he has one arm slung around Castiel’s stomach, his hand lands in a bunch of feathers. He absentmindedly runs the feathers through his fingers, feeling Castiel relax further beneath him, and he’s lulled to sleep effortlessly.

It’s a solid six hours later when Dean is woken by a burning hot presence against his back and Castiel shaking him awake with a hoarse voice. “Dean, I’m sorry. I need you,” is the first thing he registers hearing. “I can’t wait anymore. Please, Dean.”

“‘m’up,” Dean answers blearily.

“Can I j-just...?” Castiel asks, rubbing his erection up against him.

“Yeah.”

He was in such a deep sleep he feels kinda out of it at first while Cas does his thing, kissing across his shoulders and scenting the side of his neck. When Cas moves back to push down his sweatpants, Dean’s awake enough to do the same to his, and then before Cas can sidle up to his ass, he reaches behind him to pause for a second.

“Get some wing oil on there,” he prompts him. He can smell it in the air before he guides Castiel between his thighs. He can feel the oil helping Cas slide between his thighs, and he squeezes them together firmly as Cas thrusts between them.

“Oh,” Castiel groans, lining right back up to thrust again. “Oh, that f-feels good.”

“Almost as good as sex,” Dean tells him sleepily.

Cas chants his name, telling him how beautiful he is and complimenting his body while his hands run over every inch of bare skin he can find. It’s over ridiculously fast, causing Dean to wonder tiredly how long Cas was awake and needing him before he woke him up. With one final grunt and hot finger tips digging into his chest, Castiel comes between his legs just as Dean’s mind clears enough to figure out he never grabbed a towel to catch the mess like he prepared for before bed.

It feels like most of it is stuck between his legs anyway, so he waits until Cas shifts behind him, then stops him. “Grab one of those towels before you pin me down.”

One is placed in front of him a few seconds later, and he uses it to wipe up the mess between his legs, pleased when only a few drops of cum got onto his sheet, before he pulls his pants back on and rolls over ass-up for Cas to lie on top of him.

Once Cas gets into place with his wings spread out bonelessly on either side of him, Cas kisses the back of his neck and says, “I’m sorry. You can go back to sleep now.”

“Already on it,” Dean replies, winding his fingers into his wings and dropping back off into sleep almost instantly.

It’s sunny outside when he wakes up again. He has absolutely no idea how they managed it in their sleep considering Cas was on top of him last he remembers, but they’re now face-to-face with Dean’s face smushed up underneath Castiel’s jaw. Like he was worming his way closer even while he was unconscious, which is both incredibly embarrassing and par for the course. He _is_ ridiculously comfortable, though, and if there wasn’t a sliver of his back exposed to the cold air of the cabin, he probably wouldn’t move a muscle.

As it is, he reaches behind him to tug Castiel’s wing in closer to cover that cold spot, and Cas makes some kind of indistinguishable sound as his feathers settle more snugly around him. Apparently his angel isn’t ready to wake up yet. He closes his eyes and lets his mind drift as he soaks up the warmth coming off of Cas. He isn’t really hot yet, his wings are soft, and it feels damn good waking up with him in his bed.

As he starts to take inventory of where all of their body parts are, he notices that Cas has one arm under Dean’s neck (it’s gotta be numb by now) but his other one is around him with his fingers splayed wide, pressed firmly to his lower back. Dean has his bottom arm squished between their bodies and the other one over Castiel’s hip with his hand resting in a pillow of feathers. A gentle wiggle of his fingers confirms he was sleeping with his hand deep inside his wing, and he huffs a little at himself as he starts cording his fingers through his plumage in the way he finds so soothing.

While he’s usually able to move his hands through his feathers easily, for some reason, his fingers keep getting stuck this time. This must be where Cas’s feathers are really messy. Considering Cas is still asleep and his fingers are here anyway, Dean fixes them as surreptitiously as he can, one by one. Would be a hell of a lot easier of Cas were on his back and his wings were laid out for him, but though he struggles, he doesn’t stop until he can brush his fingers through his feathers in that one spot the way he prefers.

“That feels unbelievable,” Castiel sighs suddenly, making Dean jerk back in surprise. He rips his hand out of his feathers and then awkwardly places it on his hip, not knowing what to do with it now that he’s busted.

He doesn’t remember untucking himself from under Castiel’s chin, but he’s currently looking at his stupidly endearing bedhead and blue eyes that are surprisingly lucid. He licks his lips in a bid to buy himself an extra second. “I, uh -”

“Was grooming my wings while you thought I was sleeping,” Castiel finishes for him, swooping in to catch his lips in a kiss that steals any retort Dean might have come up with. He presses into it, eager to prolong the kissing in favor of delaying the conversation that’s bound to follow. Castiel’s palm that had been so firm on his lower back before only increases its pressure now, and Dean takes the initiative to slot his leg between Castiel’s muscular thighs.

“Don’t think -” Castiel says, kissing his teeth. “- you doing that -” Dean nips at his bottom lip, causing Cas to groan and kiss him soundly once more. Castiel’s erection is filling against his leg as they begin to rock together, and it’s only when Dean breaks the seal of their lips to press a line of kisses along that fucking jaw of his that Cas seems to remember what he was saying. “Will mean we don’t talk about wha- _aah!”_

Castiel breaks off and abandons that sentence altogether as Dean snakes his hand down between his legs and runs his palm along his thick length.

Dean swirls his tongue over the hollow of his clavicle before he circles his cock with his fingers loosely and says, “Could use some of that wing oil, you know.”

“So get some,” Castiel teases him, and Dean latches onto his collarbone while his fingers leave his cock to journey over the sharp jut of his hip bone and dance the few inches up his spine. He only has a handful of seconds of worrying about not being able to find his glands through the thickness of his feathers when his fingers touch something damp. He inches forwards, keeping his fingers on his skin even though his wings are doing their damndest to push down on his hand. And then he finds it. Finds _them,_ he corrects, as his fingertips gently brush against two soft nubs.

Castiel jerks, his hips thrusting forwards at the same time a soft _ugnh_ comes out of him and Dean feels fingernails bite into his skin. More confident now, he presses his fingers against the pliant, damp skin before rolling one nub gently between his thumb and forefingers exactly the same way he’d do to a nipple. Feels just like one, actually, just wet and slippery and a little bit larger. Then that thought leaves his mind entirely when he feels what can only be described as a _gush_ of warm, slick fluid and Castiel calls out.

“Feel good?” Dean asks unnecessarily, strangely turned on by how good that felt on his fingers. He’s making Cas _wet_ and it’s really fucking hot.

“A-amazing, Dean, it’s a-almost overwhelming,” Castiel pants.

Wanting just a little bit more oil on his hand (and also kind of wanting to drive Cas a little crazy), he does the same to the other gland and feels the oil flood over his fingertips as Cas once again groans with pleasure. This time his own groan matches Castiel’s.

Now with his hand sufficiently slicked up, he brings it down between them to coat each of their cocks one a time. His hand stills on Castiel’s thick cock, his eyes fluttering closed as the succulent scent of _Castiel_ drifts into his nostrils. This time there’s something unmistakably tart mixed in with the fresh scent he’s so familiar with, and just like that, he’s thrown into a quick flash of memories of apple picking as a child. Cas smells like an apple tree for some reason, like a stiff breeze carrying the fresh scent of apple-scented wood directly into and through every inch of his body. “Damn you smell good, angel.”

“Harder, Dean. More, _please,”_ Castiel begs him.

Dean hadn’t realized he stopped once the scent hit him, but he picks it up again and jacks Castiel’s cock nice and slow. Cas apparently has no patience for that this morning, because he knocks his hand away and instead shuffles closer so that their cocks are slotted together. They’re still both on their sides, but that too, only lasts a minute before Castiel rolls Dean onto his back and gets into position between his legs. Dean’s hand, still slick with Castiel’s wing oil, embeds itself into Castiel’s wing while the other drags him in for a kiss.

And _god_ the way Cas kisses him. It’s so good every single time. Steals his breath, doubles his heartbeat, makes something so frigging _pure_ stream into him that he never wants to stop. Never wants Cas to stop. They kiss and grope and writhe, their bodies growing moist with sweat, their groins plastered together and moving in a dance as old as time. Dean feels it building slowly, bit by delicious bit, the tell-tale heat in his stomach getting hotter and hotter with each sensual grind of their hips.

Their lips part for the first time in ages when Cas comes with his nose nestled against Dean’s neck. The hot surge of semen between them spreads over Dean’s cock and he follows Cas over the edge seconds later with one hand still in Castiel’s wings and the other one cording through his wild hair.

Castiel falls on top of him in a boneless heap Dean wouldn’t change for anything. He keeps right on running his fingers through his hair and his wings, enjoying feeling both the man and the angel on top of him in his bed with no rush and no reason to move until they want to.

This is happiness. This is peace. This is fucking _great._

Almost creepily on the same wavelength, Castiel mumbles, “My opinion of mornings has improved drastically since we met.” His lips are still close enough to his neck to brush his skin.

“Not a morning person?” Dean asks, surprised. He’s never gotten that impression before.

“I’m much more amenable to them when I wake up with you.”

Dean’s smile flashes fast and bright. Because there it is. That thing again. And Dean pushes it down and buries it with a lot more difficulty this time than he did yesterday. “The daily morning orgasm probably doesn’t hurt.”

“It doesn’t hurt at all,” Castiel says seriously. “Wait - did I hurt _you,_ Dean?” he asks, popping his head up, concern written all over his face.

“No, angel, it’s just an expression.” Castiel’s face is pink from exertion and his lips are kissed swollen. Dean feels pride and a sense of satisfaction that he’s already got his boyfriend looking this debauched first thing in the morning.

Castiel narrows his eyes at him playfully. “What are you grinning about?”

“Just thinking about how awesome I must be to have a boyfriend this hot,” Dean says, still grinning and reaching up to kiss him again.

When they pull apart, Dean notices with amusement the way Castiel’s wings are fluffed up. He likes being called hot, or maybe even feels proud to be Dean’s boyfriend the way Dean feels about him. It’s a strange thought, but for some reason, in this moment at least, it doesn’t bother him. He knows he’s not a catch, but it’s sorta nice to think Cas thinks he is.

“Since you’re so awesome,” Castiel begins, sliding his hand down Dean’s chest leisurely. “You won’t mind if I scent mark you before we start our day, will you?” He’s already rubbing his thumb through a glob of semen and massaging it into his skin.

“S’long as I’m not all sticky afterwards, do your thing, babe.”

“Babe,” Castiel repeats with a confused huff. “Isn’t that what humans call infants?”

“That’d be baby.”

“That’s what you call your car,” Castiel says, still sounding confused.

Dean shrugs. “It’s an endearment, too.”

“You have many of them when it comes to me,” Castiel comments, working on another spot.

Dean shrugs, folding his arms up behind his head as he watches Castiel methodically working away. “You complaining?”

“No, I quite like all of them, even if I don’t understand the meaning behind them.”

“That makes two of us. They just kinda come out a lot of the time without me thinking about it. Let me know if I say something you don’t like.”

“Like what?”

“Sweetheart, baby, babe, honey, hon. Sugar muffin,” Dean adds jokingly, making Cas laugh a little. His new favorite sound, he realizes, already wanting to hear it again. “Angel cake.”

“Angel _cake?”_ Castiel echoes. “That’s disturbing and disgusting.”

Dean laughs as he gets what Cas thinks he meant. “Not a cake made out of angels, you dork.”

Castiel pins him with a look. “If I said human cake would you not assume the same thing?”

“Okay, I hear you, angel cake is off the table. How about sweet cheeks?” Castiel’s lips twitch but he avoids his gaze, refocused entirely on his task. “Doll face? Honey bun? Cabbage?”

“People do not call their mates cabbage,” Castiel says on a laugh. That’s what Dean was going for this whole time, so he smirks up at the ceiling. _Mission accomplished._ “There. All done.”

Dean grabs the towel he used last night and Castiel wipes up the remaining mess without being asked. “Breakfast?” he asks hopefully once he’s done.

“Mmm. Ever hear of pancakes?”

“No, but I’ve enjoyed everything you’ve made me so far so I’m intrigued.”

“K let me put some clothes on then.”

“I hate when you say that,” Castiel says, but he himself is reaching for the sweatpants Dean gave him to wear last night. It warms something inside of him to see Cas in his clothes, and he feels a distinct sense of... something... inflate in his chest as he dresses in black sweatpants, an old Rolling Stones t-shirt and a thick, forest green sweatshirt. Like the last time Cas stayed over, he starts the fire while Dean uses the bathroom, then Cas takes his place while Dean starts the coffee.

A few minutes later they each have a mug filled and Dean is stopped with a warm hand on his shoulder when he goes to grab the blanket to head outside. “If you sit with me I can keep you warm.” It takes some convincing from Cas, but Dean finds himself curled up on Castiel’s lap with his wings wrapped around him. “I told you, you don’t weigh a thing.”

“My ass should be crushing you.”

“It’s not. Your ass is perfect,” Cas says, kissing him right behind his ear.

They drink their coffee in relative silence, Cas seeming every bit in his element out here, and Dean trying to pretend like his ears aren’t stinging from the cold. He’ll definitely remember his hat tomorrow.

Castiel’s free hand is on top of his sweater, lazily petting Dean’s stomach (which is oddly comforting) while Dean looks across the water to the mountains, thinking that it really doesn’t get much better than this. It’s easy and comfortable, and if this is how he spent every morning for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t have a damn thing to complain about.

Cas drags his nose along the underside of his jaw, taking a deep breath in. “I’ve never smelled you so happy.”

Instead of replying, Dean twines his fingers with Castiel’s over his stomach and brushes his thumb over the back of his hand, hoping Cas gets what he’s not saying. It’s because of him.

They sit together until their coffee mugs are empty and for some time after that, too. If it wasn’t for Dean’s face and ears feeling like they’re about to fall off he would’ve stayed longer, but it’s freaking cold out here.

“I know you don’t wanna go in -” Dean starts.

“Are you cold?” Castiel asks immediately.

“Shoulda grabbed my hat.”

“Let’s go, then. I believe I was promised pancakes.”

Neither of them move, though, and Dean tilts his head to the side where it’s rested on Castiel’s shoulder. Cas’s stubble scratches his temple, but it’s a good, familiar feeling, and as his eyes close he lets the words tumble out. “What you said, about me bein’ happy? It’s all you, Cas.”

Castiel’s breath is hot on his freezing cold ear when he says, “I would stay with you to make you feel this way forever if I could.”

_If I could._

Knowing that it’s those three words - _if I could -_ that freak him way more than _forever_ is all the proof he needs to know how far gone he is on Cas. Honestly, forever with one person doesn’t sound so bad, as long as it’s with Cas.

He squeezes his hand, and that’s enough of a cue for Cas to let his wings fall open, which means Dean climbs off of his lap and walks into the heated relief of the cabin. He goes straight to the old stereo and starts playing a tape that usually resides in a little wooden box under his passenger seat, then walks back to the kitchen. With the sounds of Led Zeppelin in the background, he starts pulling down ingredients for pancakes and asks Cas to grab him a big bowl from a cupboard. Together, they measure out what they need, then Dean lets Cas do the mixing, running into the bedroom to grab his phone to get a photo of him with a mixing bowl in his hand for the first time. It isn’t until he snaps the photo and checks it to make sure it came out okay that he spots the smear of flour Cas has on his left cheek, and when he glances up at him to see it not through his screen, that’s it.

He knows.

There’s no sense in pretending it isn’t true. It feels like his heart is doing cartwheels in his chest, and it’s painstakingly clear that it’s not gonna be possible to push this down deep enough to stop him from feeling it.

He went and fell in love with an angel.

Fucking fast, too. _Too fast_. What the hell is he doing? How’re they gonna do this? He has to leave and Cas can’t come stay with him in Kansas because people would see him. It’s too cold for Dean to stay in the cabin during the winter, the roads won’t be driveable, and even if they were, he can’t just never work again. He needs money. Well, his house back home is paid in full, so technically he could sell it to get some cash, but then what? Where would he live? What would he do?

“Dean?” Cas says, a worried edge to his voice.

He feels love surge through him again when he makes eye contact and decides not to worry about any of that other stuff for now. Right now, he’s got an angel with a mixing bowl in his hands, and they need to finish their breakfast. “Sorry, spaced out there for a second. That looks good though. You did real good, sweetheart.” Cas smiles softly at the endearment and Jesus, Dean’s so fucking gone he doesn’t know how he managed to convince himself it wasn’t true only five minutes ago. “Let’s pour ‘em in the pan, yeah?”

Castiel’s wings flutter nervously. “What if I ruin them?”

Dean shrugs. “Then we make more. We got all day.”

He doesn’t ruin them, though. The first few flip over less than perfectly, but pancakes are pancakes no matter how they’re shaped, and he tells Cas as much with a smacking kiss to the cheek when he looks disappointed. So like a lazy fantasy ripped right out of his mind, Zep is playing in the background, the fire is crackling in the living room, and Cas sits across from him at the kitchen table while the two of them eat the breakfast they made together. Dirty dishes are stacked in the sink, his ears are _still_ burning from being outside for too long, and he knows he can’t have this forever, but he still can’t keep the smile off of his face because right now this is perfect. It’s easy and domestic, and it’s honestly something he never thought he’d have after the last few months, but he has it now and he’s gonna remember it. Remember how it feels, what the cabin smells like, what Cas looks like.

Castiel’s wings are actually fluffed up, which is weird since they’ve been eating in silence, trading looks full of warmth and adoration (and in Dean’s case, love) across the table. It isn’t until both of their plates are cleared from their second (and in Cas’s case, third) helpings of pancakes that they start talking again.

“So this is what you’re like after a full night’s sleep?” Castiel asks.

“Hm?” Dean asks, torn out of his own thoughts.

“I’m wondering if it’s a coincidence or not that you’re in such a good mood the day after you didn’t wake up with any nightmares,” Castiel tells him. Dean’s jaw actually drops as he thinks back to last night, trying to remember the nightmares he had and frowning when he comes up blank. “I do believe you still had them, as I watched you toss and turn and murmur several _no’s_ in your sleep while I waited for you to wake up. I waited as long as I could before I couldn’t anymore and had to wake you. If it wasn’t for me, you might have slept all night without waking at all.”

Dean shakes his head. “No, if it wasn’t for you, I woulda woken up three times.” Castiel’s wings get even fluffier and Dean wonders if the reason he’s so happy is because they both know it’s Cas’s presence that helps him sleep better. “Y’know, I’m pretty sure this is the longest I’ve ever gone without seeing what happened play out again in my head. Feels…” He stops, unsure how to explain the magnitude of his relief. He gives a tiny shrug, knowing whatever words he comes up with aren’t gonna be anywhere close to enough. “Really good.”

“I’m proud of you,” Castiel says with an earnest smile. Dean can tell that he is; he can see the sincerity in the blue eyes he loves so much.

“It’s ‘cause of you.”

“That’s twice you’ve said that to me already this morning.”

“Was true both times,” he insists gently.

“I’ll take the first, but I believe you deserve the credit for the second. I may be in your bed at night, but I’m not in your brain. That’s you, your subconscious, finally starting to give you a bit of a break.”

“Not buyin’ that it’s that big of a coincidence, but I guess we’ll see,” he says, knowing Cas can’t stay forever. Then, pushing away from the table with a sharp scrape of his chair across the old floor, he stands to gather up their plates. “You cooked, so that means I’m on dishes duty.”

“That’s okay, I can help,” Castiel offers immediately.

“Nah, I got it. Only fair.”

Seeming to get that Dean’s not going to change his mind, Cas says, “In that case, do you mind if I go stretch my wings? We’re secluded here, right?”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen another person. Go do what you gotta do,” Dean says easily.

“Perhaps I’ll catch us something to have for lunch or dinner?”

Dean fills up the sink as he nods. “If you find something, sure, why not.”

Cas crosses the few feet between them and raises himself up to his tiptoes, winding his arms around Dean’s neck. Cas presses their lips together firmly, not letting up for several seconds, then slotting their lips together again and again until they both melt into it. Dean reaches blindly to turn off the sink as Cas guides him back until he’s against the kitchen counter, still kissing him gently, teasing at his lips with a hint of tongue Dean opens for immediately.

Dean’s hands are on Castiel’s hips, a possessive thrill running through him when he feels his pants hanging low on Castiel’s lithe body, but he matches every ounce of tenderness Cas pours into this kiss. His legs open, Cas moves into the vee between them, and in an instant, he’s lifted up until he’s on the kitchen counter. He wraps his legs around Cas and presses his lips harder against Castiel’s, enjoying this new angle and how the kiss seems to be picking up momentum but still staying gentle. Castiel’s hands drift up the back of his sweater, along his back and up to his shoulders, caressing his body lovingly and pulling Dean in even closer. Dean’s hands wind naturally into Castiel’s hair, petting through it smoothly, keeping him nice and close while their lips and tongues continue working each other over. He can feel Cas getting hard, but it’s not the same as it’s been in the past. It’s not this needy, desperate heat growing impossibly fast between them. Despite the way his legs are around his waist and Castiel’s hands are on his bare skin, it’s not sexual as much as it’s intimate, comfortable, _right._

Cas is the one who pulls away, looking wide-eyed and dazed. After a long, charged moment of eye contact, Cas asks, “What happens when you’re done falling?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“You said liking somebody more and more every time you see them is falling.” Dean nods - he did say that. “But falling has an end, right? When you fall through the air, you eventually hit the bottom. You fell. So what’s at the end of falling for somebody?”

Dean feels his heart leap into his throat. He can’t lie to him about this a second time; he doesn’t even want to. “Love.”

“Falling in love?” Castiel repeats, his eyes boring deep into Dean’s. Cas nods once, as if confirming that sounds right, and then a small smile curves his lips and he leans up, scenting along Dean’s neck one side at a time. “I won’t be long outside. Thank you for helping with the dishes.”

And then he disappears out the patio door, leaving Dean sitting alone on the kitchen counter wondering what the hell just happened.

He keeps his mind carefully blank as he washes and dries the dishes, then since Cas isn’t back yet when he’s done, he flops down on the couch and scrolls through his social media feeds as he listens to the music and waits for Cas to come back. He keeps getting up to look out the door towards the forest every few minutes, but he doesn’t see him. Maybe he just needed some time to himself, he thinks.

The cassette tape comes to and end with a _click_ and Dean lets out a sigh heavy with trepidation. He’s been trying not to think about it, but what if... what if he scared him away? What if Cas can tell that he went and fell in love with him so fast? Fuck, maybe he can smell it on him? He can smell when he’s happy and upset, so maybe... maybe he can really tell and it freaked him out? Maybe it made him bail.

Dean snorts bitterly, running his hands down his face. Fuck. Of course Cas bailed. He really screwed this up. For the first time in _months_ he’s felt like himself. Better than himself! He’s been happy - hell, borderline ecstatic with Cas if he’s gonna be honest about it. And he fucked it up. He has no idea why he’s even surprised anymore. He _always_ fucks it up. Everything. His job. Shit with Sam. Jo. That poor kid. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s pushing to his feet to grab a beer when he hears it.

“Dean!”

It’s soft and muffled, and he freezes mid-step to make sure he heard what he thinks he heard. “Dean, help!”

 _That_ he’s certain he heard, and the call for help has him throwing the door open and running outside without even pausing to think about how cold it is. He stops on the deck, his eyes sweeping the forest where he took Cas last time, but a series of splashes has him spinning towards the water instead.

His heart drops into his stomach when he sees Cas rolling onto the dock. _What the fuck?_

He’s already racing down the steep hill, skidding in his socked feet as he goes, trying to watch his step and figure out what the hell is going on with Cas at the same time. “Cas?” he shouts as he goes. “Cas, are you okay?” he asks as he reaches the dock.

Castiel is soaking wet. He’s lying on his stomach propped up on his elbows, but he can see how his face is screwed tight with pain, and though his wings are twitching, he’s obviously trying his hardest not to move. Dean drops to his knees, his hands framing Castiel’s face, forcing him to look him in the eye. “Talk to me, angel, what the hell’s going on?”

“M-my wings,” he grits out between clenched teeth. Dean’s eyes dart to his wings and he feels like ice has stabbed him right through the heart. There’s something stuck in them, tangled up inside of them, bending his feathers in an unnatural way he’s never seen them bend before, and suddenly the pain visible on Castiel’s face makes perfect sense. “What’s in them?”

“F-fishing string. Got caught - tangled. I can’t get free.” He grimaces again, grunting with pain when his wing twitches even harder. “Dean, it hurts,” he croaks, his voice cracking. “It hurts so badly.”

“I got you, Cas. It’s gonna be okay. Can you stand?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I can’t. I keep - keep tipping over. I could barely get onto the dock. I - I thought I was...” The first tear spills over and rolls down his cheek, shattering Dean’s heart into a million pieces and prompting nausea to roll through him.

Thankfully, his police training kicks in, and he feels his shoulders straighten as his hands steady. “I’m gonna get you free. I promise. You just need to try to stay as still as you can so the fishing line doesn’t get more tangled or pull any tighter, okay?” Cas nods shakily and Dean leans in to press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m gonna go grab some scissors and I’ll be right back.”

Castiel’s fingers clamp down on Dean’s forearms. “Don’t. Please don’t leave me.”

A fresh crack leaves his heart feeling like it’s bleeding in his chest. “You trust me, Cas?” Castiel nods shakily, tears streaming down his face now. “I’m coming right back, sweetheart. I swear. Just gotta grab something to cut you free.”

Castiel nods shakily and his fingers loosen. Dean doesn’t wait for him to say anything else, just bolts back up to the cabin as fast as he can. He hears Cas call, “G-get a coat and boots on first, Dean. I’m f-fine.”

Dean huffs in disbelief and completely disregards what he says, instead making a mad dash for the scissors and turning right back around to haul ass down the hill. He’s panting like he ran a marathon - that hill is fucking _steep -_ but he makes it back to Castiel’s side as fast as humanly possible. “See?” he says, still outta breath. “Told ya I’d be right back and I’m here. I got some scissors and I’m gonna cut you free.” Castiel exhales on a sob, nodding and reaching for Dean’s hand, which Dean takes while he asks, “Where’s it the worst?”

“M-my coverts. The lesser coverts, right by my right shoulder blade.”

Dean pulls his hand free to walk around to the back of his wings. He can see a dirty piece of fishing line cutting right through the small, upper most feathers and prays it didn’t sever any of them, or cut through to the membrane or bone. “I see a piece right here at the top, so I’m gonna cut that and see what happens, okay?” Castiel nods again. “Need you to stay really still, angel. I don’t wanna hurt you more.”

Dean hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should try to pull the line away from his feathers first so he doesn’t cut them by accident - knowing that’s going to hurt Cas more as he tightens the line - or if he should just slip the scissors in there and hope to god he doesn’t cut any feathers. He ultimately decides Cas is already in pain and a little more won’t kill him, mostly because he can’t bear the idea of cutting one of his feathers. He swallows hard and says, “I need to get the string away from your feather so I don’t cut it, so this might sting for a second. I’m sorry, Cas.”

Castiel nods again, and Dean moves as quickly and as efficiently as he can, slipping his baby finger between his feathers and the fishing line, then placing the scissors beside his finger and cutting the line.

Castiel calls out in pain, and while Dean had hoped that one snip might be enough to free Cas, it’s immediately apparent that isn’t the case. “Okay hon, you’re doin’ so good. I got that one part cut but you’re still pretty tangled. I’m gonna try to follow the string and get you unwound, okay? You tell me if I’m hurting you at all.”

He grabs a hold of the end of the fishing line and follows it with his fingers, slowly and carefully moving whatever feathers are in the way so he can unwind the fishing line. Once he notices Cas has been quiet for longer than he’s comfortable with, especially since he can’t see his face, he draws on his experience as a police officer and starts asking questions to see if he can distract Cas from some of the pain _and_ keep him lucid.

“How’d this happen?”

Castiel exhales a long, shaky sigh. “I thought I would catch you a duck for dinner. I know exactly where several families reside near here and that I could get there without being seen even in the daylight.” His feathers rustle as Dean works on a particularly stubborn knot. “The duck I had my eye on - the biggest one - dove under water as I approached, but I could still see it so I flew in after it.”

“Stupid,” Dean grumbles.

“I know, but I wanted to impress you,” he admits. “Do something nice. Provide for you and prove that I can be -” His wings give a sudden violent jerk and he calls out in pain again as Dean tries to soothe him by shushing him gently. Once his feathers still again, he continues. “Anyway, I barely broke the surface when I passed through the string. I tried to swim through it, thinking I could go fast enough to break it, but it just got stuck. The more I flapped to stay on the surface of the water, the tighter the string got around my wings. I started wading my way back here - thankfully it wasn’t far - but I couldn’t use my wings to help me swim because they kept getting more and more tangled.” He stops to take another breath, his wings rising and falling with his shoulders. “They - They s-started getting heavy and dragging me down,” he says quietly.

“Fuck,” Dean whispers, fear and regret pulsing through him. “I shoulda checked on you. Shoulda went after you when you didn’t come right back like you said you were gonna. I was too busy moping ‘cause I thought - I thought you bailed or something. Went back home.”

Castiel turns sharply to look over his shoulder, wincing while he does it. “Why would you think that?”

“Shitty self-esteem?” he offers in lieu of the truth, not looking away from his feathers long enough to look at his face.

“Well stop that. I would never leave you by choice, Dean, least of all like that.”

Dean nods shyly, finally getting the string all the way out of his right wing. “One down,” he says, stuffing the string in his pocket. “How’s it feel?”

“Quite sore,” Castiel admits. “But better.”

“We’ll see what we can do about the pain once I get the other one free,” Dean tells him. “Where’s it pulling the most on this one?”

“My secondary feathers. They’re -”

“The big ones down at the bottom,” Dean says, grinning at the look of shock on Castiel’s face. “Yeah, I know some shit about feathers. Had to make sure I’d be a good boyfriend for my angel.”

“I want to kiss you so badly,” Castiel says quietly.

“Soon as I’m done,” Dean says with a smile. As he gets a look at this wing, it seems there’s a much smaller section of his wing affected, but it’s wound around much more closely and many times over. There’s a span of what would usually be two handwidths of feathers that are squeezed together so tight it looks like a pony tail of feathers. “Shit, this one looks worse.”

“Thankfully this wing only has it tangled in feathers, not muscle and membrane like the other one. If any of my feathers fall out, they’ll grow back.” Dean shakes his head, resolved not to lose a single feather if he can help it. “If it wasn’t making it impossible for me to move my wing without pain I would leave it until enough of them fall out that the string went with it.”

“No, I can do it,” Dean insists. He places the base of the scissors against the feathers and gently moves it forwards to get it underneath the wire. “That hurt?”

“No.”

He inches it forwards bit by bit and finally snips through the line. It’s on so securely that he struggles to find either end, but once he does, he starts unwinding it slowly, one circle at a time. He must go around two dozen times before it comes free entirely, and he runs his fingers down the affected feathers very, very slowly.

Castiel’s feathers spread with a groan, and Dean asks, “Did I get it all?”

They fan out further and Dean walks all the way around to check his face. He nods. “I believe so. They’re still quite tender in places, but I’m pretty sure that’s just the trauma to my wings.”

Dean lets out a huge sigh of relief and almost immediately becomes aware of how fucking cold he is. The very next second he starts shivering, and before he can even take a step towards Cas, Cas is on his feet and has him in his arms.

“I told you to get a coat,” Cas murmurs.

“No time. You scared the _shit_ outta me,” he whispers, sinking into his arms.

“I’m okay now. And I’m okay because of you, Dean.”

Dean squeezes his eyes closed, fighting back the tears suddenly swimming in his eyes. His voice is rough when he says, “I’m sorry I didn’t hear you sooner. I should’ve -”

“You did everything you could have and I don’t want you to even _think_ otherwise ever again.”

“Cas - I - I dunno what I woulda done...” he says, trailing off as the words get stuck in his throat. “You’re - you -” He sighs, not sure how much he should say. “I really care about you, man. A lot.”

“I care about you a lot, too, Dean.” He sounds entirely genuine and also kinda like he wants to say more. Dean’s waiting with bated breath when he says, “Which is why I’m going to get you inside where it’s nice and warm before you freeze to death on me.”

“Use your wings,” Dean suggests, missing the comfort they give him.

“They’re currently soaking wet. Back up and I’ll shake them out.”

“You’re warm. Don’t want to,” Dean says petulantly. “I don’t wanna let you go.”

“Only briefly, sweetheart.”

It’s the endearment that makes him flush and step back enough to watch Cas shake his wings out like a dog, still grimacing in pain. He shifts from foot to foot, lifting one at a time up behind him to give it a break from the freezing cold ground.

“What are you doing?” Castiel asks curiously.

“My feet are fucking freezing.”

“Come on,” Cas says, walking over to him and scooping him up into his arms. “Let’s go inside to warm up.”

He clings much harder than is entirely necessary while Cas carries him up the hill and into the cabin, but he wasn’t joking earlier. He really doesn’t want to let him go, and his mind’s already spinning trying to figure out a way to make that happen. He got a glimpse of what it might feel like without Cas in his life when he saw him lying in pain on the dock, and he’s more determined than ever to make sure that never happens. He’s in love, and as far as he’s concerned, he’s keeping this angel forever.

Somehow.


	15. Chapter 15

“Let me help you with your wings,” Dean says as Cas closes the patio door behind him.

“You need to put warmer clothes on first,” Cas answers firmly, walking him straight into his bedroom, plopping him on his bed, and throwing the blankets over him. Cas opens his dresser and pulls out another pair of socks and a fleece sweatshirt, which are then thrust at his face. “On. Now.”

“I’ll put them on when you change into a pair of pants that aren’t dripping all over my floor,” Dean points out stubbornly. He starts laughing when Cas drops his pants without preamble the very next second, and he slips into the sweater and pulls the extra socks on without complaint while Cas steps into a new pair of pants. Cas tries to put the blankets back on him again but that’s where he draws the line.

“Later. First I help you dry your wings.”

Castiel opens his mouth to protest, but then seems to think better of it. “The fire could help us both.”

That’s not a bad idea at all, so the two of them wind up sitting in front of the fire. Castiel’s wings and back are to the flames and Dean is leaning back against his chest wrapped in a blanket. They both stay silent for what feels like a long time, getting warm, and in Dean’s case at least, enjoying the closeness while beginning to thaw. When Castiel’s wings curve around him experimentally some time later, they’re dry, and he snuggles into them happily.

It’s kinda nuts how fast being in his wings became normal instead of something unbelievable. He likes them so much that he really wants to take good care of them, so after he gives them both some time to get back to a comfortable body temperature, he asks if he can back to work.

“Hey Cas? Now that we’re all warmed up, can I take a better look at your wings?”

“They’ll be fine, Dean. You don’t need to worry,” Cas assures him.

“I’d feel a lot better if I could just get another look, though. Wanna make sure I got all the line so you don’t end up tangled even worse later.”

“It really isn’t necessary, but if it will make you feel better, go ahead,” Cas says. Dean waits for his wings to let him free, then stands and walks around to the back of his wings. Some of them dried funny, so he starts at the part closest to the center of his back and works his way out, fixing any weird looking feathers as he goes.

“Dean?” Castiel asks quietly. “I thought you were just checking the injured ones.”

“Oh, sorry. I’m gonna,” he says sheepishly. “Just uh, some of ‘em dried kinda funny, you know? So I thought I’d fix them for you so you weren’t walking around looking all messy.”

“That’s very kind of you...” Cas says. The way he says it has Dean waiting for more, though. He could practically hear the ellipsis at the end, but even though he waits, Cas doesn’t say anything else.

“Is that okay? Me fixing your feathers?”

“It is okay, it’s only that... Remember you told me before not to trick you into doing any angel things in case it means something different to you than it does to me?”

“Yeah, of course I remember that.”

“Well, what you’re doing - fixing my feathers, tending to my wings - it’s basically wing grooming. And while I’m okay with it, it feels important to remind you that it’s really only something done between mates.”

“Okay,” Dean says slowly. “We’re courting, right? That’s not close enough?”

“It is for me. I just don’t want you doing this if you’re just trying to be nice.” He _is_ trying to be nice, trying to take care of him, so he stops while he waits for what’s coming next. “Wing grooming is something... almost sacred for angels. Being able to fly is my biggest defense against other angels, the way I forage for most of my food, how I migrate... my wings are essential to my wellbeing. Allowing you to groom them is almost literally putting my life in your hands, and while I’m entirely comfortable with that, I need you to know that I have never allowed another person to touch me like this and I never -” He stops again, his wings starting to flutter now. “I’m allowing this knowing that I can’t even fathom trusting anyone the way I trust you.”

Dean swallows the lump that’s now in his throat and answers, “I, uh, I trust you like that, too. With my life, Cas, and you can trust me the same way.” His wings fluff up a little, and Dean feels himself relax in response. “If it helps, the idea of anybody else touching your wings like this makes me wanna break shit.” Like the fingers of whoever was stupid enough to touch them. “So I’m actually really... okay... with you thinking that maybe nobody else will.”

“Are you warm right now?” Castiel asks, catching him off-guard with the seemingly unrelated question.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Then... perhaps we can move this into your bedroom. It’s easiest for me to lie on my stomach to stretch out my wings, and that will make it easier for you to groom them properly.”

Dean feels his stomach swoop with anticipation and nerves. “Sounds good to me.”

Dean lets Cas lead the way since he has to lie down first, and he stands by the door while Cas lies face-first on his bed. He gets as close to the left side of the bed as he can and lets his right wing - the wing closest to Dean - spread out along the bed. It’s so big that the tips brush the wall, and it’s not even fully extended. This is just in its relaxed state.

The sight alone is absolutely breathtaking and he stares so long Cas picks his head up to look over his shoulder, silently prompting him to get on with it.

“So I figure I should start in the middle where you said they’re messy since you can’t reach,” Dean says, climbing up on the bed to straddle his thighs. “Gotta say, even though I’m looking right at ‘em, they still don’t look bad.” Castiel wordlessly stretches his wing out, exposing what can only be described as a _knot_ of feathers. “Okay, I take it back,” he says dryly.

“I’m so sorry,” Castiel chokes out. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. It’s not -”

“I never should have allowed them to get this bad. I should have done... _something._ I know they must look absolutely horrid and if you’re disgusted by me and no longer wish to do this I completely understand, Dean, and there won’t be any hard feelings on my end at all.”

“Cas, shut up,” Dean says gently. “I’m not disgusted. I’m wondering how the hell you got through everyday feeling like this. ‘Cause there’s no way that’s comfortable.”

“It’s excruciating,” he admits. “Like having an itch you can’t scratch every second of every day.”

“Never again,” Dean promises. “I got you now, babe.” Though, after saying that, he has to admit he has absolutely no idea where to start. He ignores the wet sniffle he hears from Cas to let him keep some dignity and asks, “So uh, any tips? How do I get in there?”

Cas clears his throat, then answers, “First of all, I don’t want you to panic. These feathers are going to be brittle and easily breakable. I expect most of them will fall out or break off.”

Dean looks down at the area that’s about a square foot in size and shakes his head as an image of a bald spot comes to the forefront of his mind. “No. You’re not losing that many feathers, Cas. You can’t.”

“New ones will grow in eventually. These are so messy and neglected, they’re really not worth saving.”

“I’m gonna do what I can to make sure you don’t lose any, but if you do, I’m damn well keeping every single one. Messy or not they’re a part of you and I lo-” Dean stops himself mid-sentence. Jesus Christ, he just about blurted out that he loves him. “I love them no matter what,” he finishes with.

“You’re very sweet,” Cas says softly. “As I said, just don’t panic when they break. It’s part of preening. The whole point, actually, is to get rid of the bad feathers to make room for new ones.”

Dean nods, feeling better about it now that he put it that way. “Yeah, okay.”

“I suggest just sticking your fingers inside the knot and seeing what comes loose. You should be able to tell which ones need to come out from there.”

Without any other better ideas, Dean does just that, and finds out Cas was right pretty quickly. These feathers feel way different than the ones he’s used to handling. They’re definitely more brittle, like Cas said, drier even. And almost as soon as he starts moving the knot of feathers around to try to make heads or tails outta it, it’s easy to see the quills of feathers that have already fallen out and got tangled in the knot. So he does the same thing he’d do with any knot and starts pulling at the loose pieces first. He gets more than a dozen feathers out without even having to try, and then he starts locating the quills and working them out through the tangle of other feathers. His feet start going numb after a while because of how he’s sitting back on them, so he ends up sitting cross legged with the knotted part of Castiel’s wing draped over his lap as he works.

He feels nausea swirling in his stomach as the extracted pile of feathers continues to grow. Thankfully, there are already the beginnings of new feathers poking through the mess of old ones, so at least he knows Cas won’t have a bald spot. Not here anyway. Finally, his pile reaches over two dozen (27, not that he’s counting) and now, all he can see are the feathers that have already started to grow back in and a bunch of pokey looking things with fluffy tips, which confuses him.

“Hey, Cas?’

“Mmm?” Castiel responds.

Dean knows that tone of voice. “Did you fall asleep?”

“No, but this is extremely relaxing.” Dean smiles, pleased that he can both help Cas and make him feel good. “I haven’t felt this comfortable in _years,”_ he continues. “I wish I could put into words just how wonderful it feels to have those feathers tended to. I can’t even remember a time they weren’t at least a little bit painful. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for this, Dean. Really.”

“I’m just happy you finally let me help you out. And listen, I don’t wanna freak you out or anything when you’re floating on cloud nine over there, but you’ve kinda got a bunch of little pokey, quill like things under the feathers that fell out. Is that normal?”

“They’re pin feathers,” Castiel answers, not sounding freaked out in the least. “When new feathers first come in they have sheaths protecting them. You can remove them if you want.”

“Remove the sheaths?” Dean asks, getting another lazy _mmhmm_ from Cas in response. “How do I do that?”

“Just roll them between your fingertips and they should come loose.”

The second he gets the first one between his fingers as asked, Castiel’s entire wing jerks and he makes a sound of surprise. “What’d I do?” Dean asks.

“Nothing, the new feathers are just extremely sensitive. Keep going, though, you’re doing just fine.”

Dean’s more gentle now, applying the barest hint of pressure possible until the first sheath comes off and a feather starts to unfurl and take shape. A small smile comes to his face while he watches it, and a strange sense of accomplishment rushes through him. “Heh, look at that. A brand new baby feather,” he says happily, gently running his fingers over it. “Hey, little guy,” he says quietly.

“You are adorable,” Castiel says indulgently.

“Shut up, these little feathers are cute as hell,” Dean replies, not at all shamed by his reaction to them.

“If you’re willing, they could probably use some oil,” Cas tells him.

“Yeah?” Dean asks, oddly pleased by the idea. “You’re okay with that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Isn’t it gonna get you all turned on when I touch your oil glands?”

Castiel’s wings ripple with his laughter. “It’s much too late for you to be worrying about that now.”

“Wait, you were getting hot and bothered the whole time I was fixing your wing?”

“In a way, yes.”

“Awesome,” Dean says with a grin, getting another laugh from Cas. He slides his hand over the dip of Castiel’s lower back and up until he finds his oil glands, prodding them both until his fingers are slick with oil. He was expecting the sound of pleasure that he hears Cas make, but even still, he feels a reflection of his pleasure run through his own body. “That’s never gonna get old,” he says quietly.

“Tell me about it,” Cas agrees.

Now with the sweet scent of Castiel’s wing oil filling his sinuses, he starts slicking up each feather one at a time. They go from dull and flat-looking to shiny and healthy one by one, and soon enough Dean has a system going: Removing the sheath with one hand and slicking up the feather with the other. Once he has the rhythm down, it’s quick work, and after the square foot of feathers he was working on is done, the surrounding feathers now look shabby in comparison, so he keeps stimulating Castiel’s oil glands to continue his work.

He pays special attention to the lesser coverts that were tangled up before, and though Cas says they’re still tender to the touch, he also assures him that they’ll heal fast and he’s not in pain otherwise. Reluctantly, but without anything else to do to help, he shuffles down the bed, getting closer and closer to the edge as he makes his way down the length of his wing. He’s been on his feet working for a while, and he’s on the last few inches of his right wing when he swipes his fingers over the glands again and notices he doesn’t even have to stimulate them anymore. They’re practically dripping with oil.

Intrigued, he flicks his eyes away from his wings to the man beneath them for the first time in a long time only to see Cas wriggling his hips minutely and his hands gripping the bed sheets so tight his fingers are white at the ends. Curious by that reaction, he asks, “How you doin’ over there?”

“Unbelievable.” Castiel’s naturally low voice is deeper than usual, cluing Dean into just how aroused he is.

“You’re uh, kinda dripping with oil now,” he mentions.

“I noticed. The more you touch my wings, the more my oil seeps out.”

“Like they’re anticipating me going back for more?” Dean asks.

“It could be. I’m not entirely sure,” he admits. “My wings have always reacted to you differently, and this is new for me.”

“Well, it’s kinda helpful anyway. One less thing for me to do while I groom you.” Plus, it’s actually pretty hot in a weird way he can’t even really explain to himself. It smells so damn good he’s already had to resist the urge to touch his tongue to his oily fingers to see how it tastes several times.

“Are you getting bored or tired or need a break?” Castiel asks.

“Bored?” Dean laughs. “This is fucking fascinating. I could do it all day. But I’m almost done with the back of the wing,” he says as his fingers travel deftly down the remaining feathers. “Maybe when I’m done we can grab something quick for lunch before I start on the other wing.”

Cas doesn’t respond, but he knows he’s partly in his own little world of pleasure from the wing massage, so he doesn’t worry about it. Now that he knows how horny this is getting Cas, he keeps looking over at him to see him writhing on the bed, and if he _really_ concentrates he can hear the way his breath stutters every now and then. He tries to ignore the way his own arousal mounts, and thankfully, it’s only a few minutes more before he’s finished with his wing. It’s with a sense of accomplishment that he takes a step back to admire his work.

“Jesus. Would you look at that,” Dean says proudly. “That is one good looking wing, angel. All those feathers pointing the same way, the whole thing shiny. Fucking gorgeous, Cas.”

Castiel pushes up to his elbows and looks over his shoulder to examine his wing. An adorably wobbly smile graces his lips, but Dean’s more distracted by how red his face is. He thought Cas was pretty much done with the whole mating season thing, but now he’s not so sure. He moves around his wing to get a knee up on the bed so he can reach him, and the very first touch of his hand to Castiel’s scalding hot skin has him pinning Cas with a glare.

“You shoulda said you were burning up again!”

Cas folds his wings up behind him, almost knocking Dean off the bed with the right one in the process before he rolls onto his back. Dean’s eyebrows shoot up when he sees the large dark spot on his blue sweat pants around his straining erection. He must’ve been leaking like a damn tap.

“Sorry,” Castiel says hoarsely. “I have been the whole time, from the very first moment you touched my preening glands, but my wings were so uncomfortable that I wanted you to fix them first. Then your fingers working through my wings felt _so good_ I couldn’t ask you to stop. You smelled so happy and with the scent of my oil all over you -” He stops as his eyes snap shut and he lets out a small, low growl. When his eyes pop open again, Dean’s hit with his blue eyes, so hot with desire and longing they’re basically liquid, molten heat. “I need you.”

Like a moth to a flame, Dean’s crawling onto the bed, covering Castiel’s body with his, but the very moment he’s settled on top of him, Cas flips them over and smashes their lips together. Considering Dean’s hands are already covered in oil, he digs them into his wings and swallows the moan Cas produces. With Castiel’s rock hard length pressed against him and the way Cas’s mouth is searing his very soul with each possessive press of their lips together, Dean’s cock is catching up pretty damn fast. He matches Castiel’s passion with his own, forcing away the thoughts that spring to his mind about how he almost lost this, how Cas could’ve drowned, and instead, he pours all of that into every kiss, every touch, every roll of his hips.

It’s uncoordinated, fast, and messy. Castiel’s hands are rough and needy, pushing up under his shirt to rub over his pectoral muscles, his fingers pinching his nipples sharply enough to have Dean calling out with a mix of pleasure and pain. With their kiss broken, Castiel nudges Dean’s face to the side, his mouth clamping down on his neck and sucking enthusiastically. Dean whimpers, his hands tightening on the feathers between his fingers, tugging in his ecstasy and dragging a groan from Cas.

Castiel’s hands travel down to Dean’s waist, pushing down the front of his sweatpants and freeing his erection. Dean works to extract his hands from his wings and manages to get Cas’s pants pushed down, too. He uses his still slippery hand to wrap around both of them, and they’re both reduced to a litany of moaning and gasping for breath. Dean knew Cas was turned on before they even started, but he’s still stunned when he only pumps his cock half a dozen times before Cas locks up and comes with a shout.

The hot, sticky liquid spills over his cock and Dean groans himself, squeezing them both tighter to work Cas through his orgasm while simultaneously spreading the tacky fluid over his length.

He lets Castiel’s softening cock slip from his hand as he mouths under Castiel’s chin and along his jaw, nipping with his teeth before soothing with a line of kisses while he continues stroking himself. That only lasts until Cas seems to come back to himself, and then Dean protests when Cas pushes his body away from Dean’s. At first, he thinks Cas is just going to watch as he jerks off, but then he slithers down his body and forces Dean’s legs open wider.

Cas lowers his head to lick and kiss his thigh, his mouth moving closer and closer to his groin while Dean keeps stroking himself. He moans shamelessly when Cas plants his first tentative kiss to his scrotum, and it only gets more embarrassing when he opens his mouth and starts tonguing at his balls.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasps as Cas sucks one into his mouth. He pushes up to his elbow to get a look at the angel between his legs, his mouth spread open wide with his balls in his fucking mouth. Cas massages the skin with his tongue, swirling it around the sensitive skin and making Dean feel like he can’t fucking breathe for wanting him. “Feels so good, baby,” Dean praises him. “Feels so, _so_ good. _Shit.”_

Seemingly encouraged, Castiel changes tactics, letting his sack fall from his lips to press a kiss to where Dean’s fingers are currently wrapped around his cock. Instinctively, Dean stops moving his hand, wanting Cas to have a chance to do whatever it is he wants to do without the hindrance of his hand moving up and down. (He might’ve unintentionally stopped breathing, too.) Castiel’s eyes flick up to his, so fucking blue he still can’t believe they’re real, and then he licks the place his fingers meet his cock. Dean exhales all at once, feeling another surge of pleasure shoot through him as Castiel’s hot tongue slides around his erection as he traces Dean’s grip.

Once Cas finds the place Dean’s fingers meet, he uses his hand to move Dean’s out of the way. He grips him at the base, and after one searching gaze at Dean, he licks a single, wet stripe from the base up to the tip of his cockhead. Dean couldn’t keep the long, desperate sound he makes inside for anything, and when Cas licks across his slit and fucking _moans_ with pleasure, Dean’s sure he’s never seen or heard anything so sexy in his life.

“I’m real close, Cas,” he warns him. “You look so fucking hot, baby. Never seen anything so hot in my damn _life.”_

“You taste every bit as good as you smell. Can I take you into my mouth?”

Dean’s eyes slam shut in a fruitless attempt to stop the arousal surging through him so strongly but nods with another warning, “I’m gonna come any second.”

“I like the way you taste. You can come in my mouth,” Castiel tells him, either uncaring or completely unaware of just how hot he sounds saying that. Before Dean can even begin to form a response, Cas sucks the tip of his cock between his plush, pillow-soft lips, and Dean’s cock is surrounded by the incredibly hot, wet sensation of Castiel’s mouth. Cas goes right back to swirling his tongue around his girth, but quickly pulls up to lap at the tip again. He keeps his lips wrapped securely around the tip while his tongue sweeps over the head again and again, and as Dean feels a particularly strong burst of arousal, Cas _moans_ and that’s it. The rumble of his low moan, muffled because his mouth is full of cock for the first time _ever,_ has Dean’s orgasm slamming into him out of nowhere.

 _“Fuck!_ I’m gonna - Cas -” Nope, too late. He’s coming way too fast to even get the warning out, and stupidly, he gasps, “I’m c-coming!” as he spills into Castiel’s waiting mouth. He forces his eyes open to see it as he floods Castiel’s mouth with his load for the first time, watching as Castiel’s eyes go wide for a split second before they close and he swallows with a look of rapture on his face. The fucker even makes a soft _mmming_ sound as his throat works to swallow the next spurt _that_ inspires, and white hot pleasure flashes in Dean’s vision. His entire body is overcome with a tingly, floaty feeling as he tries to catch his breath.

When he’s still unable to move several minutes later, he’s pretty sure he might actually be dead. He can’t feel his fingers or his toes and there’s a loud buzzing sound in his ears. He whimpers when he feels Castiel’s lips on his jaw and when acknowledgement of his fingers finally comes back into his awareness, they’re in his wing. Now gaining control of his neck, he turns towards Cas, searching for... something. He just can’t remember what.

Cas knows though. His voice is strained, maybe from just swallowing Dean’s cum or maybe because his ears aren’t really working yet. “Will you still kiss me?”

He’s already nodding as he whines again, because that was exactly what he wanted, and when Cas works his tongue into his mouth and the pungent flavor of his own cum is shared between them he dives into it. It’s perfect. Cas is perfect. Everything right now is perfect, and as their mouths move together in a perfectly pleasant dance, Dean can’t remember ever being more relaxed. Cas breaks their kiss first, and before he even says anything, Dean’s stunned by how intense Castiel’s gaze is. Then he turns Dean’s world upside down when he says, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Dean’s smile spreads so fast he doesn’t have anytime to question his first reaction, he just feels it. Indescribable happiness. “I’m falling in love with you, too,” he says steadily.

Now it’s Cas’s turn to smile just as big, and though Dean already knows he somehow bypassed the _falling in love with_ part and skipped right to _is in love with_ , feeling twice as happy just from seeing Cas smile like that is like a big flashing light pointing that out right now.

“Nobody’s ever loved me before,” Cas says, speaking reverently, like he can’t believe this is a possibility. “I can’t even pretend to understand why you might feel that way for me of all people, but I... I feel remarkably lucky to have a chance.”

His heart swells in his chest and his hand moves to Cas’s face, brushing it tenderly with the backs of his knuckles. “I’m the lucky one.”

Cas dips his head to kiss him softly, and though it’s brief, Dean lets his eyelids flutter closed and tells himself: _remember this moment._ Even if it all goes to crap one day, this feeling, this love beginning to grow inside of him has the possibility to be exactly what he’s been waiting for all these years.

“I believe you said something about food,” Castiel says next, and Dean has to lean in and kiss him one more time, with that same little word still stuck in his mind from earlier: perfect.

It ends up being peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch because it was late by the time they dragged their asses out of bed. Even with their tongues stuck to the roofs of their mouths they can’t stop smiling and making eyes at each other. If Dean wasn’t basically floating with happiness about it, he’d throw up in his mouth a little.

He goes over the inside of Castiel’s right wing after lunch, but the majority of the afternoon is lost to him fixing his left wing. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the other one as a whole, but the feathers beneath the top layer closest to his back were still pretty messy. Dean added thirteen feathers to his pile from that wing. There weren’t any new feathers growing in this time around so he got to skip the sheath part, which meant it was a bit faster going.

When he was finished, Cas looked truly _majestic_ with his wings all glossy and neat. Of course they didn’t stay that way very long because Cas was once again hard and flushed, so Dean took the opportunity to bring him to the edge of the bed, sink down to his knees and swallow him down. The sounds he wrings out of him are absolutely filthy and he’s pretty proud of himself when he has him shooting down his throat in a matter of minutes. The dazed and (once again) reverent look on his face has his ego growing three sizes and he’s not even sorry.

Cas says he wants to stretch out his wings now that they’re properly preened for the first time in years, so Dean gets bundled up and the two of them head out towards where they watched the sunset last. Because it’s easy to see that no one is around, Cas flaps his wings and hovers a few feet in the air, stealing Dean’s breath with how graceful and free he looks just floating in the air. When Cas comes back down, his wings wrap around him and Cas kisses him enthusiastically, his joy absolutely palpable.

“I can’t wait to really fly,” he says once they break apart. “My wings haven’t felt so fluid in years, Dean. I feel fantastic.”

“You _look_ fantastic. I thought your wings were badass before, but now with them all glossy and neat? You’re beautiful, Cas. You take my breath away.”

Cas nuzzles into his neck where they stand and Dean’s so incredibly full of happiness and warmth, he doesn’t know how he ever survived without feeling like this.

They stay out on the grassy cliff, snuggling and necking for an hour or so, and then they head back to the cabin. Now that Dean can walk on his own, Cas goes from walking at his side and holding his hand to fluttering a few feet up in the air every few steps like he can’t stop himself. Cas keeps smiling that big, gummy smile each time he’s in the air, and that means that Dean can’t wipe the smile off of his face either. He’s never seen Cas so happy and it’s totally infectious.

The two of them make spaghetti and meatballs together for dinner. Cas rolls the ground beef into the most perfectly round, evenly-sized meatballs Dean’s ever seen made by hand, and just when he thinks Cas couldn’t get more perfect, the guy gets spaghetti from eyebrow to chin while trying to eat it. It’s fucking adorable. The mess lands them back in the shower that night, which is where Dean gets the surprise of a lifetime when Cas doesn’t even attempt to keep his wings dry.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean asks in exasperation. “I worked all damn day to get those back into order and now you’re gonna fuck them up again by -”

Cas swoops in and kisses him in the middle of what he was saying, and only once Dean stops fighting it and kisses him back does Cas pull away. “The only reason I couldn’t get my wings wet was because they hadn’t been preened. The oil is what keeps the water off of them. Now that you’ve taken such good care of them, the water should just roll right down them. See?” he says, prompting Dean to take a look.

And he’s right. The few water droplets that are on his wing drip down them like raindrops on a windshield and Dean finally relaxes. “You shoulda let me help you from the start. Then you never would’ve thought you were gonna drown because your wings were pulling you down.”

“You’re probably right,” Cas agrees as he picks up the body wash and begins lathering up Dean’s chest. “But at least we know it won’t be a problem moving forwards.”

By the time they’re finished in the shower, it’s growing late. Neither of them seem to want to end the day though, so they wind up back in front of the fireplace where they lie together and go from talking animatedly, to kissing languidly, and soaking up the silence. Now that he has permission, Dean finds himself tidying Cas’s wings and feathers any time he sees one out of place. He figures if he keeps up with them while they’re together they won’t get so bad that it takes him a whole day to groom them again. Not that he minded, but he wants Cas to always feel as good as he seems to feel about his wings today.

They somehow end up talking about how angels are described in the bible, and Castiel is an interesting mix of fascinated and bewildered by all of it.

“I still don’t understand why people think angels live in an imaginary place,” Castiel says with a small laugh.

“Some people think heaven is real. And if you think about it, it’s not _that_ weird,” Dean insists. “People think angels live in the sky? Well, you kinda do. Maybe somebody saw one of you flying high in the sky a long time ago or something and that’s where that came from,” he shrugs. “It’s a nice thought, anyway. Something powerful and good watching over us, making sure nothing bad happens.”

“While I would undoubtedly take the power to heal you if given the chance, I can still watch over you,” Castel says solemnly. “As long I’m here, nothing bad will happen to you.”

Dean believes him wholeheartedly, the only problem is that they can’t be together all the time. “I know,” he says anyway. “So if you didn’t come from heaven like you say you don’t, where did angels come from?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you in the mountains? Where did you come from?”

“Oh. I don’t really know,” he admits. “I’ve heard there are angles scattered in mountains all over the world, but I don’t know where the first ones came from. I never really thought about it. Where did humans come from?”

“Depends who you ask,” Dean says, laughing a bit at the question. “I get what you mean though. You were just always around like people and birds and other animals?”

“As far as I know, yes.”

“What’s the story behind why angels aren’t allowed to reveal themselves to humans?”

“Probably exactly what you would expect,” Cas says, nosing through his hair. “It’s an old story mostly told to encourage caution. A very long time ago, an angel befriended a human, and though he thought he was safe with the human, the human put something in his drink that made him fall into a deep sleep. The story goes that other angels came to his rescue when he woke up screaming because the human tried to cut off his wings.”

“Seriously?” Dean asks, absolutely horrified that anybody would try to do such a thing… and then immediately recognizing that _of course_ people would do that. They cut parts of animals off of them for trophies all the damn time.

“I don’t know if there’s any truth to it, but that’s what we’re told as fledglings. As you know, our wings are more important to us than anything, so it’s been enough to keep us away from your kind for the most part.”

“What’d the other angels do to the human in the story?” Dean asks.

“Killed him.”

“Seems fair,” Dean comments, getting a snort of laughter from Cas. But that brings another question to mind. “Do you think if they found out about us they’d try to kill me?” Dean wonders.

“Only if they had a death wish,” Castiel says fiercely. “And they would never succeed as long as my heart’s still beating.” Dean threads his fingers through his alulae, doing the one thing he knows that calms him. A few minutes of that plus Cas’s nose buried in his neck has him relaxing enough to keep talking. “There have been rumors throughout the years of other angels finding human mates, but I never really believed it until I met you. I never imagined the risk would be worth the reward.”

Which is basically Cas saying he thinks Dean is worth the possibility of him someday trying to cut off Castiel’s wings, and he cannot even fathom that Cas feels that way about him. It just doesn’t make sense in his head. Trying to stay focused, he asks, “Did the angels try to kill those humans?”  
“Not that I’ve ever heard. Our pair bonds are cherished above all else, valued and respected without question. Pair bonds are more important than extended family (save for children), and even supercede the law. When there’s been a pair bond formed, there’s really nothing that any other angel could say to change that, so I can’t imagine why they’d even try.”

His heart’s in his throat, but he feels like this is the perfect chance to ask. “How do angels form a pair bond?”

Castiel’s arms tighten around him, squishing him nice and tight while he kisses his sweater covered shoulder. “It’s actually out of our control. Once angels start courting, we just spend time together until the bond forms. Sometimes it happens quite quickly, and other times it takes years.”

Dean furrows his brows, not understanding how that would work. “How do you know if it formed? Can you feel it or something?”

“No. Well, I don’t think so anyway. There’s proof though, and I promise I’m not trying to withhold information from you, but I - I just don’t want to talk about it right now.” Dean nods, though he can’t deny that he feels a sting of rejection over Cas not wanting to tell him. Before he even attempts to say anything else, Cas says, “And in case you start going to a place of negativity in this beautiful head of yours,” Cas says softly, kissing the top of his head. “Please believe that it’s not because I think you would be lacking in any way whatsoever as a potential eventual bond mate.”

“Okay.” Dean swallows hard, feeling some of the sting lessen. “And I wasn’t asking because I’m ready to hop into that or anything... I was just curious.”

“Curious because it’s something you’ve considered?” Cas asks frankly.

Dean exhales slowly, focusing again on the alulae, this time to calm his own racing heart instead of Castiel’s temper. “Just in the ‘far in the future maybe someday’ kinda way,” he confesses quietly, smoothing a feather between his fingers. “If this is getting serious, you know, and it stays this good and neither of us does anything to screw it up...” He lets his sentence trail off with a shrug of his shoulders.

“That would logically be an eventual step for you to wonder about,” Cas finishes for him, also quietly.

“Yeah.”

They both let that sit, the air heavy but not awkward around them, until Cas says, “This has been a very good day.”

Dean agrees wholeheartedly, latching onto the change of subject eagerly. “You’re gettin’ better, huh? The whole mating season thing calming down?”

“Unless you touch my oil glands,” Cas jokes. “This was a better mating season than I’ve ever experienced. It’s starting to really slow down now, and it’s only been a few days instead of five. There was really only that one night I couldn’t sleep because of it, too. I still crave the closeness and if you didn’t smell like me I’m sure I’d lose my mind,” Castiel confesses, “but perhaps because of how much this cabin now smells like us, I’m very comfortable here. With you.”

Dean has to bite his tongue to ask him if he’d ever consider staying here for good. The answer doesn’t matter anyway, he tells himself as he swallows down the question. _He_ can’t stay here for good, no matter how much he might want to. This cabin wasn’t made for winters, it was always supposed to be a summer place.

It’s gonna be a long winter without Cas, he realizes again with a pang of sadness. A long winter without _this._

“God I’m gonna miss you when I have to go back to Kansas,” he hears himself say. He didn’t mean to bring the conversation down again, but it just slipped out. They’ve never really talked about what it will mean for them when he has to leave, and with the chances of the snow falling increasing every day they’re together, they’re going to have to decide something. But even saying the words sends a sharp stab of sadness so strong to his heart that he turns around in Castiel’s arms to hide his face in his neck. It hurts so bad he doesn’t even want to think about it. One of Castiel’s hands splays possessively on his spine and the other cradles his head to his chest as his wings cocoon him snugly.

“Tell me that when we’re forced to part it won’t be goodbye forever,” Castiel whispers. “Even - even if you don’t mean it, lie to me, Dean,” he begs.

Dean shakes his head as much as he can, sniffling as he tries to keep in the unexpected tears. “No lies. I’m comin’ back for you, angel. Soon as I can.”

Castiel strokes his back in long, broad strokes, up and down his back while he piles kiss after kiss on the top of his head. He hooks his chin over top and Dean can feel his wings begin to twitch, which has his own stomach twisting with corresponding nerves. “Even if we won’t be able to see each other as often as we’d like, will you still want to be with me?” Cas asks.

His heart actually _aches_ at the question. Thinking about how hard it will be without seeing each other and also without a way to even stay in contact sounds fucking miserable. How can they maintain a relationship like that? How could anybody? And on top of that, a part of him feels like Cas is the only thing holding him together now, and he’s terrified of how badly he might fall apart again without him, but what he can do? What can either of them do? If they care about each other as much as they say they do, then all they can do is try. He knows for damn sure he doesn’t want to _not_ try.

“I’ll come out here as much as I can,” Dean promises. “We’ll - we’ll just try to make it work.”

“I need you,” Castiel says quietly but passionately. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not,” Dean promises, tilting his head up so he can kiss his neck. “Not today. Not for a long time if I can help it.”

Cas cups his face and urges it up so he can press a kiss to his lips. “Let me take you to your bed?”

“Our bed,” Dean corrects on a whim, because he thinks of it that way now, and leans in to kiss him again just so he doesn’t have to see those blue eyes filled with so much sadness. He kisses him until Cas returns his kiss without holding back, then allows Cas to pull him into his lap and wrap his legs around his waist so Cas can stand without letting him go for even a moment.

While he thought they might be gearing up for getting naked again, that’s not what happens. Well, it kind of happens when Dean strips his shirts off so he can be skin to skin with Cas, and it’s true that they can’t keep their hands or lips off of each other, but they don’t take it any further than that. They map each other’s bodies with hands desperate to memorize every inch of skin, every blemish, and in Castiel’s case, every one of Dean’s freckles. They kiss promises against each other’s lips, their words unsaid but their bodies expressing everything just the same.

It’s much later when Dean is lying on Castiel’s chest, tracing lazy patterns on the hard lines of his abs when Castiel asks, “Do you miss your other house?”

“Nope,” Dean says without having to think about it. “Which is kinda weird, ‘cause it’s the first house I ever bought and I kinda thought I’d be there forever.” He doesn’t think that anymore, though. Now when he thinks about home... he thinks about Cas. He thinks about here.

“I feel like that about my cave,” Castiel comments, once again taking the thought right out of his head. “I never thought I’d live away from there, but now that I’m used to being here with you, I don’t miss it at all.”

“So in thirty years from now when I can retire and stay out here for good from spring through to fall, you’d stay with me?” Dean asks, purposely putting a bit of a playful tone into his voice so Cas knows he’s only half serious.

“As long as you allow me to forage for you and cook outside when the weather’s nice,” Castiel says seriously. “And of course I’d have to leave you some nights to fly.”

“Long as you come back.”

“Then yes. I could live here with you in thirty years,” Cas says. Dean can’t help but laugh at the way he says it. Like it’s a casual thing to even jokingly agree to. He could say, _Yeah, I could go for pizza_ in exactly the same tone of voice.

“Okay, it’s a date,” Dean says the same way.

Cas kisses him on the forehead and asks, “Do you have to trade your money to live here?”

“Only to have the electricity and water on. It’s not much for a little place like this.”

“Could you make changes to it if you wanted to?”

“What kinda changes?”

Castiel pets through his hair as he says, “There’s another room with two beds in it just across from ours that I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you use. Depending on the way these walls are built, we could get rid of them entirely and make it into one large room.”

“You’d be able to really stretch your wings that way,” Dean says as the idea takes root. “Would make grooming you a hell of a lot easier. Might be pricey though.”

“I’ve never worked on something so large, but if you were willing to let me try...”

“You think you could do it?” Dean asks.

“Yes. I think so. I’d just need a way to figure out if the entire roof would come down if we removed these walls first,” he says, which makes Dean laugh.

“Important place to start. I’ll look into it when I’m back in Kansas. I know a guy who did some work on my place. I can take some pictures and see what he thinks. Give me something to do besides miss you.”

“You’ll have Jo with you when you go back home,” Castiel says somewhat bitterly, causing Dean to wonder how often he’s been thinking of that. It came out pretty fast.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t have wings and she’s nowhere close to as warm as you are.” Then, because his fingers are still right there, he adds, “She doesn’t have abs of steel either.”

Cas clearly isn’t hearing what he’s saying, because he sounds frantic when he talks again. “You’re going to be around her and other humans all the time. You’ll spend time with them, share meals with them, drive with them in your car, go in public with them, smell like _them_ instead of me. No one will even know I exist.”

 _“I’ll_ know,” he says empathetically. “And it doesn’t matter what I smell like. I’m still yours, Cas. Nobody else gets to have me like you do.”

Castiel relaxes notably beside him. “I didn’t want to ask.”

Dean lifts his head to look at his face. “You thought I was gonna leave here and go be with somebody else like this? Or for sex?”

“I know it’s different for you,” Castiel says quietly, looking down at his hand instead of at him.

“Not now that we’re together it’s not! If we’re gonna try to make this work, you’re it for me. I don’t want or need anybody else.”

“Even if we don’t see each other for an entire season?” he asks, flicking his eyes up again. He looks cautiously hopeful.

“However long it is until I see you again, it’ll just be me and my hand and a bottle of lube,” he says with a small grin.

Cas smiles back and says, “I’ll miss your hand, too.”

“I know you will.” Dean stretches up to kiss him, letting his lips linger until he has a crick in his neck from stretching so much. “My mouth too,” he guesses, licking once lavishly into his mouth.

Castiel’s eyes immediately darken as he traces his bottom lip with his thumb. “More than you know.”

“And my ass.”

“It’s truly a wonder,” Castiel agrees.

Tongue in cheek, Dean keeps going to the next most logical place. “My dick.”

Cas uses his superior strength to roll them over, pressing Dean into the mattress as he straddles his leg, making Dean laugh happily at the trouble-making smile on Castiel’s face. Cas slips his hand down Dean’s stomach to cup his flaccid penis. His palm runs along it, feeling it as it slowly starts to fill. Dean’s smile fades as he can’t help but think about how _hot_ it is that Cas just manhandles him like this and grabs his dick without permission.

“Thankfully, I have many, many fond memories to look back on when it comes to this,” Cas says, his voice smooth and low. “I can recall vividly how it feels next to mine, how it looks when you reach your climax, how it feels when it hardens in my hand, and exactly how you taste when you fill my mouth with your semen.”

 _His_ mouth runs a little dry at the memory, and his words are slightly breathy when they come. “Are you sure? ‘Cause I’m not against giving you some more memories if you need them.”

“And you thought you wouldn’t be able to keep me satisfied,” Castiel reminds him, his lips turned up into a smile.

Dean chuckles, too. “I didn’t come every time you did,” he reminds him.

“But I wasn’t complaining, was I?” Cas says, kissing him quickly. “Actually, I think we should get some sleep and start our day off tomorrow naked and messy.”

Another thing he’ll miss when he has to leave, he thinks, this time with a smile. They get up to get ready for bed, brushing their teeth side by side, taking turns using the bathroom, and then curling up together as per usual in bed. The familiar warmth and scent of Castiel wrapped around him securely - along with his feathers feeling softer than ever against his skin - lulls him to sleep swiftly.

Later, when he looks back on this night, he curses himself for not knowing how little time they had left. He knows if he knew then, he never would have fallen asleep so easily that night. He would’ve stayed awake all night long and watched Cas sleep, doing everything in his power to never once take his eyes off of the man he loves.

But he didn’t know.

Over the next few months, he spends a lot of time wondering if Cas somehow knew what the next day would bring, and he can never quite decide if he blames him or not for saying anything to warn him in advance.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a casual reminder that I _always_ post happy ending fics :)

Dean rolls over in the dark and into the warmth beside him, seeking it out and finding it in a second. He feels a soft kiss pressed to his forehead and barely hears a, “You’re okay, sweetheart, go back to sleep. It’s only a dream,” before he’s obeying and sinking back into sleep.

The next time he wakes up, he’s the little spoon, and Cas’s short stubble has scraped a tender spot where his chin is currently resting between his shoulder blades. He twitches, trying to get him to move, and Cas turns his face until his cheek is there instead. He can already tell he’s not going to fall back asleep, so his mind wanders to last night and he remembers how Cas said they could start their day naked and messy. With a smirk, he reaches behind him and slides his hand between them, lazily seeking out the morning erection he knows Cas is bound to have after being this close to him all night.

Sure enough, his hand finds his intended target and he begins teasing him through his sweatpants, rubbing his length and brushing his thumb over his bulging head. It’s only a few seconds before Castiel’s lips begin moving across his back.

“Good morning, angel,” Dean says, his voice still gruff from his sleep.

“It seems like it’s about to be,” Castiel answers, _his_ voice ten times as rough as Dean’s as his teeth clamp down on his skin.

Less than twenty minutes later, they’re both sprawled out on their bed, gasping for air, and covered in sweat and cum.

“One of these days,” Cas huffs, “I’m going to be able to slow down and take my time worshiping you.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Dean answers, smiling cockily. “You can’t keep your hands off of me.”

“Well you’re very arousing,” Castiel defends, getting a soft laugh from Dean. “Shower?”

“Ughhh,” Dean groans. “I like coffee and _then_ a shower but I’m too covered in jizz not to shower first.”

“You _asked me_ to come all -”

“Yeah, a shower sounds good,” Dean interrupts, snickering as he bolts upright and hustles into the shower before he drips on the floor and has to wipe it up. Cas is a few minutes before he joins him, but once he does, they end up just standing together while the water beats down on them until it starts to get cool. Then they speed shower, laughing and yelping like young boys while the water grows colder and colder, and so Dean’s sufficiently awake even before he has coffee.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t fall even more in love with Cas the second he opens the bathroom door to the scent of coffee in the air. Cas smiles at him knowingly as he walks past him buck naked into the bedroom to get dressed in a gray pair of Dean’s lounge pants. Dean gets a face full of feathers, but wraps his arms around him from behind and presses a line of kisses to his shoulder blade in a silent thanks before he selects a pair of well-worn dark wash jeans, a t-shirt, long-sleeve waffle knit black shirt, and a thick flannel button up to pull on over top of that to dress in for the day. The cabin won’t be as warm yet since the fire burned down overnight, and because he already knows that Cas isn’t as hot as he was while he was dealing with the mating season thing, he figures he needs to keep warm. He finds his hat and grabs a coat too, then he accepts the coffee mug Cas hands him and the two of them go outside to drink their coffee.

They sit in a peaceful silence. He enjoys how Cas knows he doesn’t like to chat too much when they’re out here even though he’s never come right out and said it, and it fills him with a sense of calm to have Cas sitting quietly by his side sipping his sweetened coffee out of an old chipped mug. When Cas reaches over to hold his hand (probably to warm it) their eyes meet, and he’s struck as usual by how blue his eyes always look in the natural night. He feels like the luckiest son of a bitch alive to get to have something as simple as this.

The day goes by as easily as their morning coffee. Once they go inside, he introduces Cas to the wonderful world of sugary breakfast cereals. Cas goes with Foot Loops while Dean chooses Captain Crunch, but then Cas tries a bite of his and Dean hands it over after his eyes light up and he ends up with Froot Loops anyway. Because there’s only children’s movies at the cabin, they watch _Ducktales: The Legend of the Lost Lamp_ (one of Dean’s childhood favorites), listen to music, make egg salad sandwiches for lunch, and Dean gets bundled up again so they can spend some time outside in the afternoon. Cas asks him three times that afternoon to let him fly with him in his arms for just a minute, but Dean sticks to his guns even after he’s hit with the most adorable set of begging blue eyes he’s ever seen and stays securely planted on his feet for the few hours they’re outside.

Knowing how important it is for Cas to provide for him, too, Dean asks Cas if he thinks he can catch something for dinner. He comes back with a fish, which they cook up with some rice and vegetables, and they spend their evening talking and playing footsies under the table while they play several games of cards.

It isn’t until they turn the lights off to turn in for the night that Dean sees the snow falling outside. He feels a childlike wonder at seeing the first fluffy flakes coming down, and he turns excitedly to tell Cas, but his stomach twists and his smile falls from his lips at the look of extreme sadness written all over his face.

“Babe, what’s the matter?” he asks, hurrying over to him to see what possibly could’ve happened in the last thirty seconds to make him look like this.

Cas pulls him into his arms and crushes him to his body, his shoulders rising and falling with huge, shuddering breaths. Alarm bells are going off in his head, panic is already starting to set in, and Dean has no idea what the hell’s going on, just that it’s gonna be _bad._ “Talk to me, Cas, you’re scaring the shit outta me.” 

“I have to go,” he croaks.

Dean pushes out of his arms to meet his gaze. His panic only increases when he sees the agony all over his face. “What do you mean you have to go? Go back to the cave?”

Castiel shakes his head and slips his fingers between Dean’s, begging him to understand with the look in his eyes. “I told you we migrate,” he says carefully. “We always go when the first snow falls.”

 _Migrate?_ He vaguely remembers Cas saying something about that before, but he’s sure he never said when it happens.

“Don’t think you mentioned the snow part.”

“I know,” he says guiltily. “I’m sorry, Dean. I knew you would worry and I - I just wanted you to be happy for once.”

He swallows down the anger that’s rising to the surface, knowing above everything else that Cas didn’t have bad intentions here. Cas would never do anything to hurt him. That doesn’t mean it _doesn’t_ hurt though.

“How long?” When Cas doesn’t answer immediately, he asks again, more scared now after his slight hesitancy. It dawns on him again that Cas is really upset about this, that Cas knew _he_ would worry about this and that’s why he didn’t want to tell him. “How long are you gonna be gone?”

“Until the snow melts.”

Cas said it so low he could barely hear him, but it still feels like it’s echoing in his brain. _Until the snow melts._ Two months, maybe three, he thinks as the walls start closing in on him. Vomit starts rushing up his throat along with a paralyzing fear.

Cas squeezes his fingers, rubbing his thumbs in soothing circles over the backs of his hands. The small gesture of comfort is enough to help him swallow the worst of it down, and he forces out the words spinning in his head. “Was that was last night was about? Asking me if I’d still wanna be with you even if we can’t see each other for an entire season?”

“Yes,” he says brokenly.

“Son of a bitch,” he exhales on a shaky breath. “You knew. You knew you were gonna have to leave soon.”

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Castiel begs him, tugging him closer tentatively and scenting along his neck like he’s starving for it. “The snow is earlier than usual. I thought I had more time,” he tries to explain. Then, passionately, “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then don’t,” Dean says selfishly. “Stay here with me.”

Castiel pulls away to give him a sad smile and asks, “I thought you said you can’t stay here all winter?”

Dean looks away, knowing he’s right and not wanting to admit it right now when all he needs is more time to figure this out so he can convince him not to go. “You can stay here, though. Why do you have to migrate or whatever?”

“It gets too cold for our wings outside. We need to be somewhere warmer.”

“In here would be warmer than outside,” he points out. “You know how to use the fire,” he says desperately.

“But how will I get food or fly if I can’t go outside?” Castiel asks gently, and any tiny shred of hope Dean was holding on to snaps, along with the little bit of composure he was managing to fake.

Now his heart is being ripped out of his chest and with the next breath, he can suddenly hardly stand. He can’t feel his feet, his legs are numb, all he can feel is pain where his heart used to be. He searches for Castiel’s eyes dizzily, seeing them brimming with unshed tears once he finds them, and it causes his first one to spill over and roll down his cheek.

The most prominent thought in the very forefront of his brain comes out in a broken whisper. “I don’t know if I can do this without you.”

“Yes you can,” Castiel insists, sounding every bit as devastated as Dean feels, crushing him back against his body. “You are so brave, Dean,” he says into his ear. “So very, very brave, and you can do this.” Dean thinks it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself almost as much as he’s trying to convince him. “You were doing what you had to do before I came along, and that’s exactly what you have to keep doing while we can’t be together.”

“Who - who’s gonna kiss me back to sleep when I wake up tonight?” he chokes out, tears flowing freely now as he voices his biggest fear.

Cas squeezes him even harder, and his voice breaks on, “I’m s-sorry.” His shoulders start shaking and Dean knows now that he’s not the only one falling apart, and instead of making him feel less alone in this, it only magnifies it by a million. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I want to be there for you every night,” he tells him, his hand smoothing down his hair at the back of his head frantically. “I want to be the one you can always turn to when you need something - anything - but I - I c-can’t and I’m so sorry.”

He believes him, and what might even be worse is that he wanted that, too. For the first time in his fucking life, it was _easy_ to lower his guard and put his needs in the hands of somebody else knowing absolutely that Cas would take care of him. And now he’s leaving and he doesn’t even know what he means to him or how much he’s already managed to do for him in the last few weeks.

“I just started falling in love with you,” Dean reminds him in a whisper.

“And I you,” Castiel answers, not even missing a beat. “Actually, I think I’ve been falling in love with you since before I even knew what that word really meant,” he admits with a watery laugh.

His heart should be filling to the brim after hearing that, Dean thinks bitterly, not breaking into a million pieces. “Don’t go,” Dean tries, weak enough to beg again if that’s what it’ll take. “Don’t say that to me and then leave me, Cas. Don’t cut this thing between us short when we’re still trying to figure it out. Give us a little bit more time to -”

“I’m sorry, Dean, I have to go tonight,” Castiel interrupts him softly, bringing his hand around to his face and urging him away from his chest so Dean can look down at him. He doesn’t bother trying to hide his tears or the way his face must be red and puffy from crying because he knows there’s no point. Castiel’s blue eyes are red-rimmed too and swimming with tears, and it crushes the shattered pieces of his heart into dust. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I need to leave with the other angels or I won’t have anyone to follow. It’s a very long flight and navigation is difficult in the dark even after all this time.”

 _Difficult?_ “How’m I gonna know you’re okay?” Dean asks, worried now.

“I’ll be okay. My wings are in better shape now _because of_ _you_ than they’ve been for a flight like this in longer than I can remember.”

“Somethin’ could still go wrong -”

“You’ll have to put your faith in me,” Castiel answers. “The same way I’m going to have faith in you being okay, because I can’t - I can’t stand the thought that you won’t be.” Fresh tears flow down his cheeks and drip off of his sharp jaw. “Promise me you’ll be okay?”

He can see how desperately Cas needs to hear it, but the words get stuck in his throat. How can he promise something he has no control over? He nods anyway, and though he can see the flicker in Castiel’s eyes that means he doesn’t buy it, he doesn’t say anything more about it.

“I have to go,” Cas says again. “I don’t want to - it’s the _last thing_ I want to do - but I don’t know how long the snow has already been falling and I have to grab your picture and your rock before I go.”

“N-no,” Dean begs him, starting to sob now. “I need more time, Cas, please.”

“Please don’t make this any harder than it already is,” Castiel chokes out, wiping Dean’s tears away even as new ones streak down his cheeks. Dean closes his eyes, trying to do what Cas asks and hold in the tears so he can say goodbye without blubbering, but it’s impossible to stop them when it hurts this much.

“‘m sorry,” Dean says. “I’m not tryin’ to, I just - I’m gonna miss you so fucking much,” he gasps. “I feel like I just found you.”

“I know,” Castiel answers, his bottom lip trembling with the effort to keep it together. “But I know this isn’t the end, Dean, it’s only the beginning for us.” Dean nods, wanting to tell Cas he believes that too but too choked up to do it. “Not being here with you isn’t going to make me care for you any less. I will miss you every moment we’re apart. I will think of you and how you feel in my arms every night when I fall asleep, and I promise you that your face will be my first thought every morning when I wake.” Dean drops his head to rest his forehead against Castiel’s, trying in vain to keep his shit together. “I will fly faster than I have ever flown to get back to you as soon as possible. I swear to you.”

Dean nods against his head, his tears dripping down his nose, lost for words for several seconds before he remembers he doesn’t have the luxury of time right now.

“I’ll - I’ll be here,” he promises. “The second the snow starts to melt, I’ll be back here waiting for you.” Castiel’s eyes fill and spill over again, and Dean knows he needs to hear him say this. “I’ll wait for you,” he repeats. “You and only you, Cas. However long it takes.”

Their lips meet in a kiss messy with their combined tears and desperation. They cling to each other, Castiel’s wings wrapped around him tighter than ever, like they never want to let him go. He releases Castiel’s shoulders, needing to touch his wings one more time before he goes, and hates himself when he breaks their kiss with another sob as he feels the familiar softness cord through his fingers.

Like Castiel can read his mind, he tries to comfort him with a whispered, “You have dozens of my feathers here.”

Dean shakes his head because yeah, he loves his feathers, but only because they’re his. “All I want is you.”

Cas kisses him again, soft and tender, somehow breaking Dean’s heart even more when he thought it was already as broken as it could get. “I will be back the first moment I can be.” Though it looks like it costs him, he takes a single step back before he changes his mind and launches himself at Dean all over again, wrapping his arms around his lower back and rocking him gently back and forth while they both start crying harder than ever. He’s gonna miss him, miss _this,_ so damn much.

Cas releases him abruptly all at once and steps back to open the patio door. It’s cold and still snowing, but Dean follows him out in his socked feet anyway.

“Dean,” Castiel huffs in exasperation, and inexplicably, Dean hurries forward to bury his face in Castiel’s chest as he breaks down yet again. Cas rubs his back and waits for him to get it together a little bit.

“G-gonna miss you getting pissy with me,” he explains once he can talk, earning himself a watery laugh from Cas.

“I adore you beyond words,” he tells Dean, leaning in to press their lips together once more, short and sweet. “My heart will be with you.”

“And mine’s about to fly away,” Dean whispers hoarsely.

Cas smiles sadly as his fingers slip away from Dean’s slowly, reluctantly. “I’ll take good care of it,” he teases weakly.

Dean nods, trying to force a smile. “I know you will. And m-make sure you bring it back with you. We kinda fit together, you know?”

He gets a real smile for that and wills himself to sear it into his brain. He’s gonna miss that _so much._ “So I’ve heard. Goodb-”

“No,” Dean says, shaking his head and cutting him off. “I’ll see you later, Cas. This ain’t goodbye,” he says fiercely. “Not for us.”

Castiel smiles again and deftly climbs up onto the railing on the deck. He spreads his wings, stealing the breath from Dean’s mouth with how astonishing his wings look primed for flight, and looks over his shoulder. “I’ll see you soon, my love.”

Then his legs bend at the knee, and Dean sees Castiel really fly for the first time as he disappears into the night leaving him on the ground feeling more alone than he ever has in his life.

He stands there for much longer than he can see him. If he wasn’t so heartbroken, he’d be amazed at how easily Cas disappeared into the sky without a trace. No wonder they fly at night. When he turns to walk back into the cabin, it’s like being slapped in the face with memories. Him and Cas cooking together in the kitchen, Cas getting spaghetti all over his face, the two of them making out on the couch, cuddling in front of the fireplace. And that’s not even taking the bedroom into consideration, where Cas is literally his safe place to fall in the midst of his worst moments.

He doesn’t get to have that anymore.

Not for a long time.

With his mind already made up before he even realized he was thinking about it, he grabs the cooler out of the corner he’d stashed it in when he first got here and starts emptying the fridge into it. Milk gets poured down the drain, food gets thrown out, and beer gets left behind. The freezer is next, and then the cupboards, and once they’re empty, he heads to the bedroom. He stops at the threshold, the scent of Castiel and stale sex more pronounced than ever now that he’s alone, and has to physically force himself to step into the room. His hands shake as he gathers what clothes he thinks he’ll need (he knows he’s coming back so he doesn’t bother taking _everything)_ and he makes a rash decision to leave the bed the way it is. The sheets aren’t exactly clean, but he can barely see through his tears as it is and he knows he can’t handle dealing with them right now.

He throws on his coat and boots and makes the first few trips out to the Impala, leaving her running so he doesn’t freeze his ass off once he gets inside. He gathers up the feathers Cas left behind, unsure what to do with them until he pulls Cas’s pillow out of the pillow case and stuffs them and his rock inside. He gets another burst of Castiel’s scent and tries not to wonder how long they’ll keep smelling like him while he brings them out to the car and leaves them on the front seat.

He pours water on the fire to make sure it’s really out, then puts the boards back up hastily, one-by-one. Lastly, he grabs the bag outta the garbage can to stuff that in the trunk, locks the door behind him, and turns off the electricity and water. Looking back at the cabin as he climbs behind the wheel, he thinks sadly how it looks like he was never there at all. If it wasn’t for the pillowcase full of feathers beside him, he might think the whole thing was a dream.

Glancing at the clock on the dash, he sees it’s just aften ten. With a ten hour drive ahead of him in the dark, he wonders if maybe he shoulda tried to wait it out until morning, but the thought of trying to sleep in their bed without Cas is enough to have him tearing up again, and he shoves Baby into reverse at the same time he swallows his feelings.

He doesn’t look back as he drives away.

Pulling into his own driveway in Kansas nine hours later (he may have had a bit of a heavy foot) is weirdly anticlimactic. It hadn’t really been about the destination, he guesses, more about getting the hell outta Dodge. With a weary sigh, he drags himself out of the car. The bag of garbage is already starting to stink, so that goes into the bin by the front door. Other than that, the cooler and the feathers are the only things that make it into the house.

He kicks off his shoes at the door and stumbles into his bedroom, letting his coat fall onto the floor along the way, and finally falls into his bed bone-tired at seven AM. Even the extremely comfortable memory foam isn’t enough to shake the feeling of _wrong_ out of his system, and it isn’t until he’s covered up with the pillowcase full of feathers held tightly to his chest with the memory of Castiel’s smile behind his closed eyelids that he finds a shred of what feels like _home._

He wakes up screaming from a nightmare (daymare?) at noon, and as soon his eyes open and he sees he’s in his house, he feels his heart break all over again. He’s alone and he doesn’t know the next time he’ll see the angel he went and fell in love with. He’s gonna wake up like this alone every night all over again.

Because nobody’s there to see him do it, he pulls Castiel’s feathers out of the pillowcase and runs his fingers from the base to the tip of every single one before he feels like he has the strength to get out of bed. Pretty much the only thing he has in his house is coffee, so he puts a cup in his Keurig and leans back against the kitchen island as he waits. He eyes his white marble counter tops with exposed brick back splash and stainless steel appliances with distaste, now thinking they look like something out of the future after using getting used to the old appliances at the cabin. Everything’s so clean and tidy in here too. No dirt he didn’t manage to brush off and trudge through the house, no smell of wood burning in the fireplace, no tiny feathers that had escaped onto the floor, and no view of the mountains outside waiting for him.

Worst of all, of course, is no Cas.

He shakes that off as he grabs his mug and plops down on the end of his leather sectional couch. He hits the electric recliner and grabs the TV remote that’s in its spot beside him on the couch, flicking on something other than a children’s movie or Netflix for the first time in months. It’s the news, and Dean remembers too late that the current recount of _another_ mass shooting is why he stopped watching TV in the first place.

He switches it off and sits in the silence instead, drinking down his coffee one scalding sip at a time. He tries and fails not to reminisce about how blissfully happy he’d been drinking his morning cup of coffee with Cas just yesterday, and tells himself that in time he’ll probably be able to look back at yesterday morning and find comfort in it. It’d been a perfect morning, after all. A perfect day, really. Lazy and comfortable, filled with food and comfort and love. Everything he’d been looking for, right until it was all ripped out of his hands.

Deciding not to dwell on things he can’t change, he showers and gets ready for the day. Dressed in an old police department tee and a pair of jeans he left behind with the rock Cas gave him tucked safely in his pocket, he takes off to the grocery store to restock his house. He still feels weirdly disconnected from everything. He’s been doing his groceries here for years so the drive should be comfortable and familiar, but though he navigates without any issues, he just feels like he doesn’t fit.

He tries not to think about Cas as he puts different items into his cart, returns the smiles and nods he gets from people who recognize him from his job, but manages to avoid anything more than a, “Hey, how’s it goin’?” until he gets to the check out.

It’s an older lady working the cash register he recognizes but doesn’t know, and she says hello and it’s nice to see him again as a young looking kid at the end of the belt starts bagging his food for him. He pays without issue, but once he walks down to put the bags back in his cart, the kid says, “Hey, aren’t you that cop that shot Grant Robinson?”

He feels the wind knocked out of him by the simple question. His hand flies to his pocket where Cas’s rock is sitting and he barely manages give the kid an even look. “Not my favorite story to retell, believe it or not.”

He has the sense to look embarrassed at least, and he apologizes while his face heats up. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean any disrespect. I was just trying to figure out why you looked familiar.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean mumbles, already power walking out of the store with his hands shaking on the handle of the cart. He only just manages to get the groceries into the car and the cart back to where it goes before he gets in the Impala and slams the door, shutting himself inside. He cranks up the music and drops his head onto the steering wheel, trying to force every other thought out of his brain while he works on calming his heavy breathing and accelerated heart rate.

 _Take a deep breath. In. Out. There you go. Again, Dean. In. Out._ It isn’t until he’s breathing properly that he realizes it was Cas’s voice he was hearing in his head talking him through it, and he concentrates on the memory of calm, impossibly blue eyes boring into his in the dark to get his shit together so he can drive back home.

This is why he went to the cabin in the first place, he thinks as he starts to put the groceries away at home. The news on the TV, the small-town fame he has for the last thing he’d ever wanna be famous for, and the not knowing when it’s gonna get brought up again out of nowhere. Sam had been right about getting away, and he almost can’t believe that he _forgot_ that this is what it was like. It’d been so simple out at the cabin, not just with Cas, but on his own, too. Nobody knew who he was when he had to get groceries or wanted to get a picture printed of him and another dude. Nobody cared.

In an effort to act normal even if he feels like shit, he unloads the rest of the car, starts some laundry, and putters around the house. There’s some dust he needs to deal with and a stale scent in the air he opens the windows to get rid of. He thinks of Cas several times throughout the day - almost constantly, if he’s gonna be honest about it - and he thinks a lot about how much he’s changed the short time he was gone. He’d always loved his house. He was proud to buy it, proud every time he changed something to make it more his, and proud that he’s made it into what it is today. But now he keeps thinking about how though nothing here has really changed, he doesn’t quite love it as much as he used to because he can’t see Cas here. Cas wouldn’t fit in with the fancy appliances and leather couch, the smart TV or the washing machine that tells his phone when it’s time to put it in the dryer. Dean had been comfortable and content here before, but now he’s just indifferent.

Unable to put up with anymore silence by the time he’s cooked, eaten, and cleaned up after dinner, he gives Jo a call.

“He lives!” she says dramatically in lieu of hello.

“Yeah, thanks for checking in by the way,” he says sarcastically, a small smile on his face just from hearing her voice.

“You literally told me to leave you alone unless someone was dying,” she reminds him.

“Since when do you listen to me?”

She snorts, but sobers quickly. “Since you look like you’re one slice of bad pie away from offing yourself.”

He feels embarrassment creep in while he flops his head back onto the couch, knowing that ain’t far from the truth. “Don’t kid about bad pie,” he answers.

She giggles quietly, then asks, “So how are you doing anyway?”

“Peachy,” he lies. “How’s everything going at work?”

“You’re still a shitty ass liar, but everything’s good. Same old, same old.”

“Still partnered up with Benny?”

“Yeah, and I gotta say, he’s growing on me. He even lets me drive, unlike _someone_ I know,” she says, picking up an ongoing argument that will never be truly done when he’s around.

“Only ‘cause you scare the shit outta him.”

“So he’s a smart guy,” she says cockily, making Dean laugh a little. “You sound better. Guess your time away did you good, huh?”

“Sorta, yeah,” he admits. “You already knew I was back then?” 

“I probably knew before you fell asleep.” 

“‘Cause _that_ ain’t creepy,” he says under his breath.

“You love me,” she says airily. “You wanna get together and catch up? Beer and burgers?”

It’s nice to hear her voice, to talk to somebody who feels like an old friend, and the idea of fast food has him all but drooling, but he knows deep down he’s not quite ready for that. “Yeah, just uh, not yet.”

“Recovering from all that fresh mountain air?” she teases.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that. Gimme a couple days and if you don’t hear back, you have permission to to come drag my ass outta bed.”

“Alright, will do. I’ll tell everybody you got fat and ugly on vacation when they ask. And Dean?” she asks, suddenly serious now. “I was worried, so thanks for calling. Really.”

His eyes fill as he wonders if she should still be worried, but he just clears his throat and says, “Okay, kid. Talk to you later,” before he hangs up.

Because he knows she actually will come and drag him out of the house, he makes plans to meet her for those burgers on his fourth day home. He still feels like shit, feels like he’s still struggling at the end of a bad break up even though he knows he’s gonna be back with Cas come spring.

He asks to meet Jo early at the Roadhouse, avoiding the usual cop stop with the goal of also avoiding most of the guys who’d be changing shifts and grabbing a bite to eat, and by the time he’s two beer and most of his burger in, he’s glad he did.

It’s just him and Jo, in a small booth back in the corner far from the door, and he hasn’t had to talk to anybody except for Jo and her mom (their waitress and the owner of the Roadhouse) so far. After he starts and stops himself from bringing up Cas for the fourth time, Jo leans across the table with a look in her eye that instantly has his back up. He knows it’s her Interrogation Room look.

He says, “Jo -”

At the same time she says, “So who -” And then they both dissolve into laughter. “Spill!” she insists.

Dean fingers the rock in his pocket and tries to come up with what he can tell her. He ends up shrugging to fake a casualness to his words before he says, “I sorta met somebody.”

She tips her head back and laughs. “Only Dean Winchester would manage to meet somebody in the middle of nowhere. How’s that even happen? I thought you were going to be secluded out there?”

“I was,” Dean confirms. “I dunno. Long story short is I met him on a hiking trail. Scared the shit outta me, then kinda saved my ass when I rolled my ankle and couldn’t walk.”

“Aw, so he’s your knight in shining armor?”

Thinking about how many times Cas has saved him from himself, he nods. “Yeah, kinda, I guess.”

“So! Tell me about him! What’s his name? What’s he like?”

“His name is Castiel, but I call him Cas. He’s, uh, really different but in a good way, you know? He lives out there alone, in his own little world almost, hunts for his own food, cooks on a fire most of the time, has his own little garden kinda thing going so he doesn’t even shop for most stuff. He makes a living as a carpenter, building his own furniture, plates, bowls, cups. It’s pretty cool to watch him do his thing,” he tells her.

“So where is he? Are you gonna see him again?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. We both sorta agreed last minute to go our own ways until the roads are cleared enough to go back in the spring.”

“But you guys can talk or email or whatever while you’re apart?”

He frowns. “Not really, no. He doesn’t have any of that stuff.”

“He’s completely off the grid?” she questions, which Dean nods to. “Dean, I don’t have to tell you that most people who live that like are -”

“He’s not, Jo, come on. He’s not some sort of criminal, okay? I’m still a cop. I’d know.”

She nods and twists her ponytail around a few times. “So are you still together now or did you decide to see other people?”

“Nah, we’re still together. Not giving up that easy. Not for him.”

She grins like she’s caught him in something. “Guess you’re pretty gone on this guy, huh?” He shrugs noncommittally which makes her laugh lightly. “It’s adorable that you think you can still lie to me.”

“I _am_ adorable,” he agrees, taking another swig of his beer. “I dunno, Jo. Honestly, if he still feels the same way when I see him again in the spring, I think I’m gonna have a hell of a time coming back here.”

She laughs, but this time it’s a laugh full of disbelief. “What are you gonna do? You have to work.”

“I dunno, but I still got some time to figure it out.”

“And, no offence, but that’s only if the guy is still into you when you get back. If he even comes back. And aren’t you worried that he would’ve fucked around in the meantime? A couple of months is a long time, especially without any contact at all.”

Dean meets her eyes dead on and says, “Nope. Not worried about that in the least. He’d never do that to me.”

She’s obviously skeptical, and while he’s insulted on Castiel’s behalf, he also doesn’t really blame her. She doesn’t know - _can’t_ know - just how monogamous Cas really is. “Well I hope it works out for you, I do.”

“I wanted to ask you somethin’,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I told him about what happened with, uh, Robinson.” He sees the flicker of surprise in her eyes that she tries to hide. “Cas uh, said something that made me wonder...” He’s so unused to talking about this that it’s like the words are fighting to stay inside. He twists his beer bottle in his hands, and though he has to look at it instead of at her, he remembers Cas telling him how brave he is and finally speaks. “You said you didn’t know it was fake, right?”

“Right,” she confirms carefully.

Dean nods, comforted all over again by knowing he wasn’t the only one who was duped. “So when he was aiming at you, you felt...?”

“The whole life flashing before my eyes thing, yeah,” she says heavily, her shoulders deflating a little bit. “I thought he was gonna kill me.”  
Dean swallows hard but asks, “And when I shot him, did you think...” He stops and takes another drink of his beer, finding the strength to lift his head up so he can see the expression on her face and read her body language. “What did you think before you knew?”

She looks at him in confusion, like she doesn’t know why on earth he’d ask her this, and answers, “I thought you saved my life.” He feels his eyes mist over and has to look back down at the table. “Every time I think about it, which honestly is still pretty often, I feel that way. It’s like... I know now, logically or whatever, that he wasn’t gonna shoot, but when I remember what happened, I always remember how scared I was. Scared _shitless._ I thought I was going to die until you shot to protect me. I can still remember exactly how relieved I felt when I realized the shot I heard was him going down instead of me.” He nods, but he’s still working making himself look like he’s not about to burst into tears. “What did you think I thought?”

Dean shrugs, swallowing thickly. “Honestly never really thought about it ‘til Cas fed me some bullshit about how you probably thought of me as your hero for a minute there.”

Jo twirls her ponytail again, pressing at the tip of it with her thumb. “This Cas guy sounds pretty smart.”

Dean scrutinizes her expression, wondering if she’s being straight or fucking with him right now.

She laughs lightly, shaking her head. “Yeah, I thought that. I know I’ve told you a hundred times already, but you did everything right that night, Dean. I didn’t say this before because I never thought you’d really hear me, but if Cas can knock some sense in your head then I should be able to, too. So listen up,” she says, leaning her elbows onto the table and looking him right in the eye. “The only reason I can go back to work every day after knowing what it feels like to have a gun pointed at me is because _you_ showed me I could put my life in the hands of my partner. You had my back and did everything you could to save my life when you thought it was in danger, and as much as I know you’re gonna hate to hear it because of what happened to Robinson, I sorta do think of you as my hero.”

 _Shit,_ Cas was right. Jo thought she was gonna die. She was just as fooled as he was.

“I still killed someone,” he says.

“Yeah, you did,” she answers, making guilt prickle inside of him like a thousand tiny knives. “Might’ve been somebody asking to die the only way he knew how, and it wasn’t fair that you had to do it, but you did.”

He nods, taking another mouthful of beer and swirling it on his tongue before swallowing it down. “Think I’ll ever stop, you know, seeing it every night?” he asks quietly.

“Still every night?” she asks, sounding worried. Dean bobs his head anyway and she sighs heavily. “Maybe you should try -”

“Don’t.” He cuts her off with the one curt word, and she leans back in her seat, backing off for now.

“Least you smell like you’re actually showering now,” she mumbles, and Dean pins her with an annoyed look, which makes her snort. “Thought I was going to have to fumigate your house at one point.”

“You’re such a friggin’ brat,” he laughs.

When they’re walking out to their cars at the end of the night, Jo gives him a little push. “Let’s do this again before the holidays, kay?”

Dean nods, knowing it’ll be good for him to make plans to get out of the house. “Yeah, you’re on, blondie.”

“And seriously, it was good to catch up. You seem more like you used to be, well, before. Not quite there yet, but I remember what that looks like at least.”

Dean nods, knowing exactly what she means, and gives her a quick hug complete with a manly back slap goodbye.

That night, he’s back in the bed that feels much too big for just him with his arms wrapped around Castiel’s pillowcase. The ache of loneliness, of missing Cas so bad it actually hurts, causes tears to stream down his face the same way they have every night since he’s been back. Falling asleep when he’s afraid to dream has been harder since he’s been back here than he remembered it being before, and as he lies there for god knows how long before he drifts off, he wonders if he’ll still be able to fake it as well as he did tonight in a month from now.


	17. Chapter 17

It was only after the holidays that Dean remembered what Cas said about the second bedroom. He takes some time to think it over, trying to figure out if there’s a situation he can think of where it would be better to have that second room. It was obviously built like that for kids, which he figures is pretty much a write off at this point. If he and Cas stay together, that ain’t gonna happen, and even if they don’t, he’s already in his mid-thirties and doesn’t love the idea of being a new dad at forty. It could be a guest room, but considering he can’t have anybody over when Cas is around, that’s not going to come into play anytime soon (he hopes). And there’s always the living room. He could get a pull out couch instead of that old plaid thing, and if somebody did come visit, they’d have some place to sleep at least.

Really, even if his relationship with Cas doesn’t work out, it’d be nice to have a bigger bedroom. There’s hardly any floor space at all in there. Maybe if he knocks that wall out there’d be enough space so he could get an electric fireplace to keep the bedroom warm overnight.

With those thoughts in mind, he starts making plans. If everything goes well (and he still has faith that they will) the cabin will be more of a permanent place to live rather than a vacation house. He still has until the summer with paid leave from work, so if he heads back out there when the snow starts melting, probably by the end of January or February, he’ll still have a handful of months out there. He wants to make it more like home and less like a second-hand kind of place. In order to be as comfortable as he can be, he’s gonna need some stuff.

A new mattress, newer television, new couch, maybe one of those internet sticks so he can watch Netflix and go online without it costing him a fortune. He puts a call into the general store by the cabin, asking the old man who printed his pictures what they do for deliveries of big stuff like a couch and a mattress, and gets the okay to order whatever he needs to the post office. Apparently there’s a guy in town who uses his truck to help out with local deliveries, so he gets his number for when he needs it.

Getting all of this stuff in order helps him make it through each day. He _really_ loves the idea of breaking in a new bed with Cas, something only the two of them have ever (and hopefully will ever) sleep on, and he eagerly orders them the exact same memory foam mattress he has in his house. He can’t wait to see the expression on Castiel’s face when he sees the smart TV, but decides to wait on ordering the couch so the two of them can pick one out together online. Maybe Cas has an opinion about fabric or something that he wouldn’t, and he wants Cas to feel comfortable and like he has a say in what they put in their space.

Outside of preparing the cabin for his return, he goes back to working out every day. He becomes friendly with a few other regulars there, gets his body back into prime police department shape, and between the people at the gym, Jo, and his bi-weekly phone calls with Sam, his social life is as full as he could possibly stand without Cas. He still sleeps with the feathers that no longer smell like Cas, but thankfully, running his fingers along them remains as calming as ever, which is good since he strokes them each night he wakes up with his nightmares.

He misses Cas every single day. It gets so bad a few times that he starts thinking recklessly, guessing how much he could sell his house for and how long he could live on that at the cabin. He could live on canned food for a few months, right? Who needs access to a road and supplies? Thankfully, daylight brings common sense with it.

Even in the daylight, missing Cas never really goes away and it never lessens at all, though in some ways, he’s almost used to it by the time the sun starts shining a little longer each day. He takes pictures of everything he thinks he might mention to Cas so he can see: his house, the gym, the police station, the Roadhouse. He also carries the rock Cas gave him every day in his pocket, and once Jo figures out he keeps touching it whenever he feels nervous or anxious, he reluctantly shows her and tells her it’s the first thing Cas ever gave him. She doesn’t get the significance to it of course, but after telling him “how cute” it is that he’s so attached to it, she suggests maybe putting it on a key chain or something so he doesn’t lose it. A key chain doesn’t feel right, but it gets the wheels turning, and he thinks maybe a necklace might work.

After some Googling, he finds himself at a small local craft store with his rock burning a hole in his pocket. He walks past the circular table filled with a bunch of twenty-somethings painting mugs and over to where he can see the handmade jewelry section. He dismisses each piece one by one because they just don’t look right, until he finds [a black braided bracelet with some kind of gem woven onto it.](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/30/f6/07/30f6076f0d2978abaa2a8bbc7d5e9802.jpg)

He must stare at it for too long, because a salesperson comes over. “Find something you like?” she asks.

He doesn’t recognize the face, but she looks pretty young. “Yeah,” Dean nods. “Do you make these here?”

“We do. Well, I do actually,” she says with a small smile.

His eyebrows shoot up. “You made this?”

“Yep. Jewelry’s always kinda been my thing, and hemp is one of my favorite products to work with. You like it?”

“I do, but I was kinda wondering if you take custom orders?”

She looks intrigued by the question. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well I really like the look of this one,” he says, pointing to the black bracelet, “but I want my own rock in it.”

“Oh, I could definitely do that. Do you happen to have the rock?” He pulls it out of his pocket and opens his hand with it resting in his palm. To her credit, she doesn’t even look weirded out that it’s just a plain looking rock instead of something nicer like the gem on the one in the display case. “May I?” she asks, indicating she wants to take it from him.

A strong pulse of possessiveness overcomes him, but logically, he knows she has to touch it in order to see if she can use it. He hands it over, albeit reluctantly, and she turns it over slowly while she inspects it. “I could do it, but I’m going to have to drill through the center to string it onto the bracelet.” His apprehension must show on his face, because she continues with, “I know this must have some sort of significance to you, so I need you to know there’s a chance it will break.”

“No,” he says immediately, shaking his head. “I don’t want it then.”

 _“But_ if it breaks, I can easily glue it back together. I’ve done it a hundred times. You won’t even be able to tell.”

“Really?”

She holds up a finger and spins the jewelry case until she finds another necklace. This one has a turtle charm and two beads on either side. “I broke this one,” she says, removing it from the case and placing it in Dean’s hand. He checks it out, brings it right up to his eye and looks at it closely but can’t see a crack at all. “This one?” he asks.

She smiles proudly. “Yep. Can’t even tell, right?”

He has to give it to her, he can’t tell at all. “Could you put beads on mine?”

“Like these?” she asks.

Dean nods. “Blue ones.”

“Come with me,” she says, handing the rock back to him and leading the way to the sales counter. She digs around for a few minutes, then pulls out a tray full of beads. “Take your pick.”

His eyes are instantly drawn to the blue beads closest to the color of Castiel’s eyes and he points them out quickly. He places his rock on the counter, and she puts the beads on either side of it.

“Like that?” she asks.

Dean nods. “And the hemp can be braided like it was on the other one?”

“It’s your bracelet,” she smiles. “This rock is a little bulkier than the gem on the other bracelet though, so I’d suggest a longer bracelet so it can be wrapped around your wrist twice. That way the second loop of hemp will kind of balance out the rock a little bit more. But it’s totally up to you!”

“No, that sounds good. You sound like you know what you’re talkin’ about,” he says with a smile. “What are you thinking price-wise?” She tells him a number he immediately okays, and then comes the hard part: leaving the rock behind. “This uh,” he starts lamely, “means a lot to me, and if you lose it or break it so bad you can’t fix it...” He tries to explain what that would do to him but his heart’s in his throat. To his horror, his eyes glisten with moisture, and she smiles softly.

“I understand. I won’t lose it, and I’ll do everything I can to keep intact.” Not trusting his voice, he nods. “I should be able to get to this tonight and have it ready for you tomorrow afternoon if that’s fast enough?”

It’s actually much faster than he was expecting, and though the rest of the day and tomorrow without the rock is daunting, he nods his okay again. “I’ll give you another twenty to have it done first thing in the morning.”

“Deal,” she smiles. “Be back here at 9AM when we open and it’ll be ready for you.”

He thanks her and walks out feeling strangely naked without the rock in his pocket, but when he comes back tomorrow morning and she ties the bracelet onto his wrist, he doesn’t stop smiling for hours.

Though it’s kind of strange to admit, he feels like it’s that bracelet and the constant reminder of Cas it supplies him with that gets him through to February. When he calls the old guy (Bobby, he discovers) back at the general store to arrange the delivery of the mattress and other stuff he wants to order, he finds out the snow’s still pretty deep on the back roads. Bobby suggests waiting a few more weeks until the road leading to his cabin will be easier to drive on, which makes Dean antsy, but he agrees to.

That doesn’t mean he waits that long to go back, though. Bobby said the roads would be driveable (although _just)_ and that’s enough for him. He’s kept an eye on the temperature, and it’s only a few degrees colder by mid-February than it was when he left in November, so he goes for it. He packs the car full of food, clothes, and everything else he thinks he’ll need for the next five months or so, and finally, he’s making his way back to his cabin.

Dean’s sure his heart races faster than normal the whole drive there, and even knowing that Cas won’t be there yet, he feels closer to him now than he has since the night he left and it fills him with hope. He’s gonna see Cas again soon. The last few months of sleepless nights, crying himself to sleep, and missing him every single day are almost over. Almost behind him for good.

If he thought he drove Baby slowly down the dirt roads in the fall, it’s nothing compared to how he inches her down the snow-covered roads, and though he almost gets stuck more frequently than he’s entirely comfortable with, he makes it. He doesn’t pull all the way in to where he usually parks her, knowing the hill’s too steep for that. He changes into his new snow boots at the top of the hill and grabs his shovel, starting a path to the cabin to make his multiple trips in easier on him.

Unlocking the cabin door and stepping back inside for the first time in months finally feels like home, and even though he still has a shitload of work to do, he can’t wipe the smile off of his face while he does it.

The first thing he does is start the fire and remove the boards from the windows, then he goes back out to turn the power and water on and starts bringing everything inside. He puts the important stuff away where it goes first, then, feeling much better than he did when he left the cabin, bundles up the stale smelling sheets he left on the bed and redresses it with new ones he brought with him. Castiel’s pillow case, still filled with his feathers, finds its home on Cas’s side of the bed, and after a can of Chef Boyardee for dinner, Dean falls into their bed alone, dead tired but in a hopeful, satisfying way he hasn’t felt since the last night he spent with Cas.

It’s two long weeks before the snow melts enough that Dean thinks it’s safe to go back into town. He goes straight to the general store and shakes hands with Bobby like he’s an old friend. Once he’s filled his basket with fresh food and more meat, he brings it all up to the counter to pay.

“Gotta tell ya, I was waiting for the call tellin’ me you got your stubborn ass stuck out there, son,” Bobby says with a laugh, taking the cash Dean hands over. “That car of yours must be tougher than she looks.”

“She’s awesome,” Dean grins. “Think we can get a truck down there now?”

Bobby nods, “I reckon so. Like I said when you called last time, only needed a few more weeks. You go ahead and order all your fancy stuff in whenever you’re ready.” Dean beams, more excited now than ever. “Looks like you’re getting yourself settled in our neck of the woods, huh?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, I’m hoping to stay through to most of the summer.”

“Is that so?” a female voice asks from behind him. He turns to see a woman with short grey-ish hair and a sure gait. “Sheriff Jody Mills, I don’t believe we’ve met,” she says, holding out her hand for him to shake.

“Dean Winchester,” he says, not at all surprised by her sturdy handshake.

“How long you been on the force, Winchester?” she asks.

He doesn’t have to ask how she knows. He’s been a cop long enough to know you can just tell most of the time. “Twelve years, ma’am.”

“I prefer sir, but I appreciate the respect. What’re you doin’ in our neck of the woods, Winchester?”

“I’m on extended leave, sir. After a weapon discharge resulting in the death of a minor.” His fingers pass over the stone on his bracelet, and he surprises himself with how steady he sounded saying that.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she says with understanding in her eyes. “Can’t get much further away from a situation like that than out here.” Dean nods his agreement as she places a bottle of red on the counter. Bobby rings her up while she asks, “You were here before the snow fell, too, weren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I was just tellin’ Bobby here I plan to stay through to the rest of the summer until I have to go back to work.”

“Orderin’ in a bunch of rich boy city stuff,” Bobby says to Jody, getting a reluctant smile out of Dean.

“If he’s a police officer I know the rich part isn’t true, but a city boy?” Jody says, tsking and shaking her head playfully.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says easily. “Excuse me for wanting a TV and a bed that were made after I was born.”

They both laugh at that, and Jody pays for her wine. “I’ll be seein’ you around, Dean. And if you ever need to talk to somebody who’s been through what you’ve been through, you know where to find her.” Dean must not hide the look of surprise very well, because she smiles sadly and says, “Yeah. And it’s okay to not be okay at first. You’ll get there,” she says confidently, and then with a kind smile and a friendly pat to the back, she walks away.

“You need anything else?” Bobby asks him, rearranging the ball cap on his head.

Dean blinks to clear his mind, then remembers what else he wanted to ask. “You know anybody who builds houses, or a carpenter or something? Lookin’ to take down a wall in the cabin I’m in.”

“Same guy who does our deliveries, matter of fact.”

“Handy,” Dean comments.

“It ain’t a big place, somebody’s gotta know how to do everything. Garth is our Jack of all trades. You have any plumbing problems, he’s your guy for that too,” he says with a chuckle.

“Good to know. I’ll give him a call. Thanks,” Dean says, gathering up his bags. “I’ll see you in a few weeks when everything comes in.”

  
With his new mattress and flat screen TV delivered along with the okay to tear down the one bedroom wall from a scrawny but surprisingly competent guy named Garth, the middle of February comes quickly. Dean works on keeping the driveway and deck shoveled, and even walks a path through the trees to his and Cas’s sunset spot. He spends quite a few evenings out there, simultaneously feeling closer to Cas and missing his strong chest to lean back on more each time. He bundles up in a big winter coat he splurged on, snow pants, gloves and a warm hat, but it’s still nothing compared to the heat Cas was giving off the last time they were out here together. It was so cold he actually needed to wear a neck warmer the first few times he made the walk, but as the temperature climbs and the snow starts disappearing bit by bit, he doesn’t need it anymore.  

His heart hurts a little bit more every day he wakes up to less snow outside and no Cas in his bed. For some reason, he had it in his head that _as soon_ as it started to melt that Cas would be back, but now that _that_ milestone has come and gone, he figures it probably has more to do with the actual temperature than the snow and resigns himself to more waiting.

Cas’s mountain is still snow covered at the beginning of March, and Dean’s really starting to hate the stupid white stuff by then. Every time fresh flakes fall (and they seem to _insist_ on continuing to fall) he curses them vehemently and sighs in resignation over another day without Cas. He thinks about him constantly, wondering if tonight will be the night he wakes up to Castiel’s warm body and soft wings wound around him. He wonders how badly his wings will need a grooming. Wonders how long it’ll take Cas to scent him the first time until he’s satisfied that he smells like him. Wonders if Cas will smell as good as he remembers, that crisp morning air and wood carving scent, and the sweet apple tinge to his oil. Wonders if Cas is as unbearably horny as he has been. Wonders if Cas misses him as much as he does. Most of all, he wonders if Cas will still feel the same about him as he did when he left.

As the days slowly pass, he tries not to wonder if maybe Cas found an angel to bond with instead of him, but he can’t always push the thoughts away entirely. He comforts himself with the fact that he’s still happier out here in the cabin without Cas than he was at home. Just drinking his coffee out on the deck and looking at the mountain each morning makes him so much happier than he’d been in Kansas, and without Cas there with him, he can’t explain even to himself _why_ it brings him so much happiness, but it does. He feels like this is where he belongs, with or without Cas.

It’s nothing like he thought it would be when his days of _without Cas_ finally come to an end.

He wakes up alone, for one thing, and it isn’t until he’s used the bathroom, thrown on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, and stumbled blearily out to the kitchen to start the coffee that he sees Cas sleeping on the couch with his wings wrapped around himself like a bat.

He’s so startled to see somebody inside his house when he wasn’t expecting them he damn near drops the mug in his hand. Once he steadies himself he’s even more surprised when he realizes Cas flew here but made the choice to sleep on the couch instead of with him. The more he looks at him, the more happiness and joy at seeing Cas again begins to war with nerves and anxiety. _Why_ didn’t he come sleep with him? He always did before, even before they got together. Is this some kind of preemptive warning that Cas’s feelings have changed?

A childish part of him doesn’t even want to wake him up. If Cas stays sleeping then he can’t break up with him, and Dean doesn’t have to try to pretend to be fine with it even though his heart aches at the very thought of being in the same room as Cas and not being allowed to touch him. Apparently his feet have a mind of their own though, because he’s walking over in his socked feet and crouching down beside Cas before he can stop himself.

His heart skips a beat when he confirms Cas is every bit as gorgeous as he remembers. He finds that tanned skin, pink lips, slight stubble, and the thick eyelashes resting on his cheek just as attractive as before. His hair’s as crazy as Dean’s ever seen it, but he knows that’s probably from all the flying, and his wings look like they’re in pretty dire need of a good preening. He can see the spot where they go from shiny with oil to dull, and he figures that’s how far Cas can reach on his own. Something loosens in his chest knowing that he hasn’t found anybody else he trusts enough to groom the rest of his wigs for him. Maybe he still has a chance.

He backs up a step, not wanting to freak him out by looming over him when he wakes, and says, “Morning, Cas.”

A small smile curves Castiel’s lips and he turns towards him with some kind of pleased, sleepy sound that burrows into Dean’s chest, but his eyes don’t open.

“Cas, come on, wake up. I missed you,” Dean says, a little bit louder this time.

“Dean,” Castiel sighs happily, his eyes blinking open slowly at first. Then he seems to see him and his eyelids snap open. “Dean?” he repeats, sitting up and rubbing at his face.

“Morning, angel,” Dean says, straightening up until he’s standing again.

Castiel’s wings unfurl so fast tiny feathers go flying, and then Cas is standing, too, and his wings are wrapping around him while Dean’s heart soars and a laugh bubbles out of him. Cas is _here_ , he’s really back, and his wings, _god_ he missed these wings. He hates his sweater for keeping the sensation of all of those feathers off of his skin, but at least he has Cas’s strong arms -- No, wait. Cas isn’t touching him. His feathers are but Cas isn’t.

He opens his eyes to find the blue of Castiel’s eyes beaming at him, and his heart clenches in his chest when he sees a shy smile on his angel’s face. “Hello, Dean.”

“Heyya, Cas,” he answers, smiling so big he’s surprised his face doesn’t crack in two.

“You’re okay?” Cas asks, searching him for the truth.

“Was a long couple of months, but yeah, I lived,” he confirms. “You look a little wind swept. You okay?”

“I’m exhausted,” he confesses, “but otherwise okay.”

He wants to ask about the inches that feel that miles between their bodies but instead he asks for what he needs. “Can I hug you?”

There’s a small pause before Cas nods and steps forwards and _finally_ Cas has him in his arms again. Dean’s arms wind around his neck, squeezing as tightly as he can without choking him, and he feels tears prickling in his eyes with relief.

“I missed you so fucking much,” he whispers hoarsely.

“I missed you as well,” Castiel answers quietly, his fingers pressing hard on his lower back. “I thought of you every day. I flew as fast as I possibly could to come back to you. This is the earliest I’ve ever come back.”

Dean isn’t anywhere close to being done hugging him, so he just keeps holding on. “Thought I’d wake up with you in our bed.”

“I - I wasn’t sure -”

“Be sure,” Dean interrupts, holding him even tighter. “I’m still yours if you want me.”

Castiel all but sags in his arms, and a single tear falls when Castiel’s head turns and he buries his nose in his neck. _This_ is Cas. This is what Cas and only Cas does and he’s so unbelievably relieved he gets to have this again.

“Can I scent you?” Castiel asks, sounding nervous but determined.

“Hell yes,” Dean replies eagerly, leaning back and turning his neck to give him more space. Cas whimpers as he holds him in place and firmly rubs his face along Dean’s neck one side at a time.

“Oh, Dean,” he whispers, his voice sounding reverent as his hands carefully find his face. Dean’s eyes close at the sensation of Castiel’s big, warm hands on his skin again. “I missed you, missed this, _so much.”_

Dean drops his forehead until it’s resting on Castiel’s once he’s through, just soaking in the feeling of wings around him again, relief and pure happiness surrounding him as fully as Castiel’s feathers.

Finally opening his eyes to see that beautiful shade of blue has him blurting, “Kiss me, already.”

Cas nods shyly, but Dean sees his eyes light up, too. “Only a small one.”

Dean can’t even argue that because Cas is already leaning in and then he’s got those pillow soft lips on his again, giving him one, then two quick pecks on the lips before Cas seems to give in and leaves them slotted together for a few short seconds. The chaste kiss is enough to take Dean’s breath away, and though it was brief, it was still a hell of a kiss. Instead of backing away entirely once their lips part, Cas scents him again along each side of his jaw while his wings unwind enough to tease his feathers all over his body, scenting the rest of him. Their faces are so close when he’s done that Dean can’t begin to resist leaning in to kiss him again, but almost as soon as their lips press together Cas is pulling away and putting space between them.

“Dean, please,” he objects, stopping him with a quick shake of his head.

Dean tries to make sense of the rejection, but can’t quite get there. Cas said he missed him, he’s scenting him, and his wings are still all over him. So why doesn’t Cas want to kiss him? “What’s the matter?” he asks him.

“I missed you _so much_ and my feelings for you are just as strong as before,” Cas assures him. “I just need a little time to reacquaint myself with you. We’ve been apart for so long.”

He takes a moment to let that sink in and nods to let Cas know he understands what he’s saying. “Yeah, okay,” he says quietly, still feeling a little hurt but willing to give Cas the time he needs. “You, uh, want a cup of coffee? I was just about to go sit out on the deck.”

“I would like that very much,” Cas says, his lips turning up into a smile now. Cas grabs him by his hand and slides their fingers together as he starts to walk away. “Thank you for understanding.”

Dean smiles sadly and says, “I just wanna make you happy, Cas. Whatever that looks like is good with me.”

“This is the first time I’ve felt any happiness since I left,” Cas tells him, and _that_ is certainly something he can relate to.

He lets go of his hand once they reach the kitchen so he can take down two mugs, filling his while Cas goes to the fridge to get himself the cream Dean’s had stocked there for him ever since he’s come back. Cas fixes his coffee while Dean puts on his boots, coat, and hat, and then the two of them walk wordlessly out to the deck and take their seats the same way they did so many months ago. Cas’s wing settles between his back and his chair, and as Dean watches his happy sigh turn into fog in the air and slowly disappear, he feels good. Better than he has since Cas left.

Other than Castiel’s hum of pleasure at his first sip of warm coffee, they sit in silence while they drink. Dean looks across at the snow-covered mountain, not hating it nearly as much as he did this time yesterday, and wonders what it is about the quiet now that feels so much less lonely than the whole last month out here. It’s nice to have someone to share the silence with, he concludes. It isn’t until his coffee is finished and he tries stealing sideways glances at Cas that he notices Cas is still wearing the blue sweatpants he left in, and the idea of Cas being clothed while the other angels aren’t (except for Gabriel) gives him a strange little thrill. He wonders if they know about him, but doesn’t have the balls to ask when the silence, although nice, still feels careful.

He missed the moment when Cas had turned his head towards him, but he can feel his gaze on the side of his face and fails to will away his blush as he wonders what he’s thinking about. Cas exhales on a bit of a laugh, and only then does Dean turn to look at him. “What?”

“I forgot how beautiful you are when you blush,” he answers, his wings twitching. Cas is nervous?

“Shut up,” Dean says lightly. “I could feel you staring at me.”

“I missed you,” he says simply. “As nice as the photos were to look at, they didn’t pay the intricacies of your face due justice.”

Dean only blushes harder and he shakes his head a little while he looks down at his empty mug. “Still a natural when it comes to sweet talkin’, apparently.”

“It’s easy when the object of my affection is as awe inspiring as you are,” Cas says, but at least Dean can hear the teasing lilt to his voice this time.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got a pretty face. Not the first time I’ve heard it,” Dean teases back, but he shoots Cas a smile while he gets to his feet. “Let’s go inside before I freeze my balls off.”

Cas snorts as he stands next to him, and Dean’s smiling when he leads them inside and puts their mugs in the sink. He turns back to Cas and says, “Couch?” Cas nods in agreement and they walk over. Dean waits for Cas to settle in first before he sits beside him, placing himself close enough so his wing will wrap around him again. Once it does, Cas takes his hand into his and turns his wrist over to look at his bracelet.

“Did you make this?” he asks, his warm fingers trailing slowly first over his rock, then over the beads and braids. Goosebumps pop up along his arms at his touch.

“Nah, I paid somebody to make it for me. I did kinda come up with the design though.”

“It’s nice. Why did you choose to wear it?” Castiel asks, finally looking up at him.

Dean’s fingers itch to twist the rock on his bracelet, but since Cas is still inspecting it, his hand finds its way to the back of his neck where he rubs it nervously. “I, uh, know it’s kinda lame but I kept carrying the rock around with me everywhere.” He was about to mention how it was Jo’s idea, but decides to leave that part out for the time being to keep things as easy as possible between them. “Got tired of forgetting which pair of pants I left it in, so I went to see about getting it turned to a necklace or something. Then I saw a bracelet like this I liked - it had sea turtle on it, actually - and I asked the girl who made it if she could switch that out with the rock.”

“And the beads?” Cas prompts.

“For your eyes, obviously,” he answers, blushing again. “I know it’s sorta dumb -”

“I think it’s very sweet,” Castiel disagrees. “How long have you been wearing this?”

Dean shrugs. “Got it a few months ago. Been wearing it every day. Only take it off to shower.”

“All of your friends, co-workers, even strangers have seen this on you?”

Dean nods. “They don’t know what it really means. I uh, told Jo it was from you when she asked me why I was so obsessed with it but didn’t go into details or anything.” Then, suddenly feeling like there’s no sense lying about Jo when there’s no reason to lie about it, he tells the full story. “It was actually her who suggested putting it on a key chain that gave me the idea for jewelry.”

“You spent time with Jo?” Castiel asks, his gaze searching Dean’s.

“Yeah. We hung out a couple times. I told her what I could about you.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That I met somebody I’m crazy about and couldn’t wait to see him again,” he says honestly. “Told her we met on a hike,” he adds with a smile.

“Which is technically true,” Cas says, also smiling now. “I like that you did this,” he says, tapping on his bracelet. “It pleases me know others saw it on you, even if they didn’t know what it meant.”

“Still a little possessive?” Dean jokes.

“More than I’m willing to admit,” he answers. Dean knows it probably isn’t the right reaction to have to that, but he feels like he’s glowing from the admission. Cas is quiet for a few seconds before he comes out with, “Your cabin doesn’t smell like us anymore. It feels very strange.”

Dean frowns, not really knowing what to say to that. “I’m uh, sorry it doesn’t smell the same,” he says lamely. “When you go back to the cave after you migrate does it smell like you?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, but that never bothered me the way this does. I feel like I’ve been erased,” he says sadly. “Like I’ve missed out on such a big part of your life and now there’s nothing left of me here because of it.”

“You forget about all the time we spent here together already?” Dean asks. “Just because your scent isn’t here anymore doesn’t mean you aren’t. I can still remember you pushing me into my bedroom, drying your wings in front of the fire, you telling me you were falling for me the first time right over there,” he says softly. “I know the cabin doesn’t smell like you right now, Cas, but you never left. Not really.” It’s sappy as fuck, but he places his own hand to his heart for emphasis.

Castiel nods after seeming to think that over. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Plus, I still have your feathers,” he says shyly. “They might’ve kept me company at night.”

“You slept with them?” Castiel checks, and Dean nods. “I slept with your shirt,” he confesses with a bashful smile. “I brought one with me. It didn’t smell like you after the first night, but it still just - I don’t know - made it feel more...”

“Real?” Dean suggests.

“Yes, exactly. I’m sure if it wasn’t for that shirt I would have convinced myself I dreamed you into existence.” Dean chuckles lightly, but then everything changes when there’s a new, sharp edge to his voice. “Was it all truly real, Dean?” he asks, looking into his eyes with disbelief that cuts Dean to the bone. “Did we really feel everything we thought we were starting to feel?”

Dean tries not to show how hearing the doubt in his voice is like a physical blow to his heart and answers as truthfully as he can. “I can’t tell you how you felt or how you feel now,” he says quietly. “But it was all real for me and it never stopped bein’ real just because we were apart.”

“It was so fast,” Castiel whispers, his eyebrows pinching together like he can’t quite remember.

“It was still real,” Dean insists.

Cas pins him with an expression full of sadness and he knows what he’s going to say before he even says it. “Dean, I can smell how distressed and upset you are -”

“Well, yeah, I’m upset,” Dean says, his voice a little harder now. “I’ve spent every damn day since November missing you, thinking about you, dreaming about how nice it’d be when we finally saw each other again and now you’re sitting here looking at me like you want me to tell you it was all a lie.”

“Because I don’t understand!” Castiel replies, a sharp desperation to his tone. “I just spent an entire season with dozens of angels who wouldn’t even _look at me_ because I’m such an embarrassment, and then I get back here and you - the kindest, smartest, bravest, most handsome being I’ve ever met - _you_ look at me like I’m the sun after a storm and it... it doesn’t make any sense!” he explodes with. “How can it be true that _you_ of all people not only want to look at me, but touch me, and kiss me, and... maybe spend your life with me?”

“Cas, baby,” Dean croaks, his heart breaking all over again, this time for Cas instead of himself. “Can I hug you again?”

Cas looks _so lost_ but he nods his consent, and then Dean is pulling him into his arms and cording his hand through his wild hair. For the second time today, Castiel’s body goes lax and he can feel it when Cas takes in a long, broken sigh and shuffles until his nose is pressed to his neck.

If he thought his heart hurt from thinking that Cas didn’t believe he was still into him, it’s nothing compared to the pain of knowing the reason is because the angels he’s been with the last few months have all but hammered it silently into his head. He thinks about how lonely Cas said he was before he came along, how Cas told him it got so bad he thought about putting an end to it all more than once, and has to keep his hands from shaking with rage. If he could, he’d go wring every one of those fucker’s necks for making Cas doubt not only his feelings for him, but for making him feel like he doesn’t deserve them.

“I told you, those angels are a bunch of _assholes._ They don’t know a damn thing about how awesome you are because they’re too fucking stupid to bother to find out!” he curses. “But I know you, Cas. I know who you really are. I know how freakin’ smart you are, how funny, how you’re so nice you just had to help a human with a fucked up foot even though you weren’t supposed to,” he says, kissing the top of his head. “I know what a good provider you are, how you make the best damn soup I’ve ever had, how your feathers are the softest things in the freakin’ world and fucking beautiful, too. I know you’re unfairly good at cards and more patient and understanding with me and how fucked up I am -”

“You are _not_ fucked up,” Castiel interrupts for the first time, his voice muffled but sure against his neck. He’s sure Cas doesn’t see the irony of speaking up for the first time to defend him instead of himself is only more proof of everything he’s saying.

“I know your heart, Cas,” Dean whispers. “Those dicks might’ve made you forget how amazing you are, but I didn’t forget. I didn’t,” he says again, “and I’ll help you remember. You just gotta let me back in.”

Cas clings to him, his body and wings moulded to him as closely as they could possibly get while sitting beside him, and Dean throws caution to the wind and pulls him into his lap. He cradles Castiel’s head to his chest, keeping his face right in the crook of his neck and rocks him back and forth like a child. He’s dying to have his hands in those feathers, to stroke his alulae and feel the stress melt away from his body, but he doesn’t know if Cas wants him to and he doesn’t want to ask and put anymore pressure on him when he’s already upset. Trying to think of what else he could do to help, he closes his eyes and thinks of happy thoughts. He thinks about how excited he was when he saw Cas sleeping on his couch, how giddy he was when his wings wrapped around him for the first time in months, and how much he loves him. He thinks about how good it feels to have Cas here in his arms, how comforting the familiar scent of fresh air on his skin is, and how the warmth from his body is bleeding through his clothes and inside of him.

Cas makes a surprised, needy sound, and burrows even closer to Dean’s neck. He inhales a few times greedily and then whispers, “You smell _so good.”_ He inhales again, drinking in his scent with one eager sniff after another. “So happy.”

“Told you, I missed you,” Dean says, smiling now that his plan worked. “Having you back makes me this happy. _You_ make me this happy. I’m so goddamn glad you’re here, Cas. You have no idea.”

“No, I do,” he disagrees. “I - I wanted to get back to you so badly. I needed to know that everything I remembered about you, everything that I felt with you, everything that kept me going, was true.” He pushes away from Dean’s chest to look at him, his too-blue eyes shining with emotions. His hand goes to Dean’s face, and Dean’s weak enough to nuzzle into his palm, closing his eyes and soaking up how good it feels to have Castiel’s warm hands on his skin again. “It was true, wasn’t it?” Cas asks, the intensity in his voice startling his eyes open. “This - you and I - is something unexpected, certainly, but more than that, it’s something special, isn’t it?”

Relief floods through him, making him feel like he can relax a little bit for the first time since Cas didn’t want to kiss him. Cas remembers, he just can’t really believe it happened to him. He can work with that. He and Cas fell for each other before, there’s no reason why they can’t do it again.

“I dunno what I expected when you first scared me outta that cave,” Dean says with a smile, “but yeah. Sure as hell wasn’t this.” He turns his face to kiss the center of Castiel’s palm, smiling wider when his alula feathers brush over his cheekbones. “Fuck I missed these,” he says, watching his wing as his feathers flutter over his face.

“They missed you. As did I,” Castiel says quietly. “May I kiss you again?”

“The answer’s always gonna be yes, Cas.”

Then Cas shuffles until one leg slides over him and he’s straddling his lap. The feeling of his angel on top of him again has arousal surging through his veins, but his groan of pure pleasure is cut short when Castiel’s lips capture his in a soft but passionate kiss. Their lips come together again and again, re-learning the shape of each other’s mouths and remembering exactly what the other likes. Castiel’s tongue slips out to tease at the seal of his lips, and a soft sigh escapes as he opens for him. Then he can think of nothing but Cas.

The first soft, tentative swipe of Castiel’s tongue along his sends shock waves of lust and love reverberating through his entire body, and that’s _before_ Cas takes complete control with his hand on his jaw and licks into his mouth again and again, sure and skilled. Dean’s hands fall to his waist, his fingers curving around those sharp hip bones he remembers so vividly, and it takes all of his willpower not to roll his hips up into him and seek out the friction his body so badly craves.

Cas backs away, sucking Dean’s bottom lip between his before turning Dean’s head to the side and kissing along his jaw, his teeth scraping and his tongue tasting as he makes his way to his neck. When Castiel’s lips find his pulse point, he kisses him chastely one, two, three times before his mouth opens and he feels the wet heat on his skin as Cas begins to suck a mark on his neck. Dean’s sure his fingers are digging into Castiel’s skin firmly enough to leave marks of his own, but it’s either that or risk losing control and ripping Castiel’s pants off to swallow him down to the root, and as much as he’d fuckin’ _love that,_ he’s pretty sure Cas isn’t on board quite yet.

“Yours, Cas,” he breathes instead.

Castiel hums against his skin, his mouth still working over that one spot that drives them both crazy, and only when he pulls away does he answer him. He rests their foreheads together, and between heavy breaths that prove he’s just as affected by their kissing as he is, Cas says, “I’m so sorry, Dean.”

“You got nothin’ to apologize for,” Dean tells him.

“I’m sorry I allowed them to make me doubt you. Doubt this,” he says, placing his hand over Dean’s heart. “I’ve just - I’ve been so incredibly lonely.” He sits back on his butt, his legs still bent on either side of Dean with his hands looped around his neck. “I tried so hard to hang on to all of the good memories we had. I must have replayed some of our conversations in my head dozens of times, but I felt like they got further and further away from me the longer I was gone. I started looking back at them with doubt. Why would _you_ of all people feel for me what I feel for you when everybody else is disgusted by me?”

“Because they’re a bunch -”

“Of dicks,” Castiel finishes, offering him a sideways smile. “I don’t know how I forgot that, either, with how many times you’ve told me.”

“Hey,” Dean says softly. “I’ve been there, okay? When you get so lost inside of something, a situation or whatever, that you forget what’s real and what isn’t. I’ve been there a lot.” He lets that sink in, to let Cas knows that he means what he’s saying. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t be there or do anything to help when you were feeling like that.”

“I still had hope,” Cas replies. When Dean gives him a skeptical look, he insists, “I had enough hope to beat every other angel back here just to see you!”

“Sure, but then you fucked up and slept on the couch instead of with me,” Dean teases him.

“A mistake I won’t repeat a second time,” Castiel promises, leaning in to kiss him again quickly. “I actually missed your bed almost as much as I missed you.”

“Hope you won’t be mad that I got us a new one,” Dean says, which makes Castiel’s eyebrows draw together. “Wanted us to have one that was just ours. I’m the only one who’s ever slept on it and it’s a million times more comfortable than the old one.”

“I can’t imagine how that’s possible, but I’ll take your word for it until I try it out for myself.”

They smile at each other shyly. It’s pretty clear that they’re both trying really hard to move past all of the awkwardness that’s happened so far this morning, but he still isn’t totally sure how Cas is feeling about them now. He rubs his thumbs over the prominent jut of his hip bones and looks into his eyes. “We okay, Cas?”

“If we’re not entirely there yet, I know we will be.”

“Are we still together?” he double checks.

Castiel’s smile spreads wide as his thumbs brush the short hairs on the back of his neck. “I don’t make a habit out of sitting in the laps of attractive men I’m not in a relationship with.”

“You better not,” Dean says, sliding his hands around to his lower back possessively.

“And you?” Castiel asks.

“Did I sit in anybody else’s lap?” Dean asks, chuckling at the idea. “No, Cas. Never touched, wanted, or even thought about anybody in a sexual or romantic way since you.”

“Were you lonely, too?” he wonders.

“Mostly at night,” he confirms, swallowing. “Not just ‘cause of the nightmares, but falling asleep alone was hard.” He sighs, remembering how that’s been the worst part since he got here. “Pretty sure I reached for you every morning I woke up, and it never stopped sucking when you weren’t there.”

“I’ll be here when you reach for me tomorrow,” Castiel promises. “And for as many days after that as you’ll have me.”

“All of them,” Dean says without having to think about it. “Stay here with me.” He wants to add _forever_ or _until I have to go_ but doesn’t want to push too much too fast.

“Where else would I go?” Cas says, kissing him once more, long and languid, and Dean’s just beginning to pluck up the courage to slide his hands down to his ass when his stomach growls and breaks them apart. Castiel’s eyes light up, though, and when he asks, “Do you have bacon?” Dean knows that they’re gonna be okay.


	18. Chapter 18

After bacon and eggs for breakfast and a second cup of coffee for Dean, he tells Cas he needs to go have a shower. There’s a flash of heat in Castiel’s eyes that lets him know that he’s thinking about the two of them showering together the same way Dean’s trying not to, but he just nods his okay instead of offering to join him like he would have before.

“I know you said you wanted to check out the new bed, so you can do that while I’m in the shower if you want. Make it smell like you again,” he suggests.

“Yes, I think I’d like that.”

After Cas follows him to the bedroom, he tosses him his cell phone, which Cas barely catches before it slaps him in the chest. He looks down at it and then back up at Dean in confusion. “You said before there was this big chunk of my life you were missing. Well, I took lots of pictures of a whole bunch of stuff so I could show you. The police station, the place I buy groceries, my house, the gym I worked out at, where me and Jo got food. It’s all on there. Scroll back ‘til you find the last pictures of me and you, and you’ll know everything you missed.”

Castiel’s eyes are wide and his voice matches his soft expression. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean shoots him a playful wink and grabs some boxers and jeans to throw on in the bathroom before he comes out. As much as he wouldn’t mind a feather frisk like the last time he showered alone with Cas in his bedroom, he’s pretty sure it’d end with him hard and frustrated just like it did back then and he's had more than enough of that over the last few months.

He showers, shaves, and brushes his teeth, then pulls on his boxers and jeans to walk back into the bedroom for a shirt. He purposely didn’t bring a shirt into the bathroom with him because he kinda wants to show off his newly toned muscles. His stomach is as flat as it’s ever been, his shoulders are wider and more muscular, and his arms are more defined now than they’ve been since he was in his twenties. He had a lot of pent up testosterone and free time while Cas was gone, and since he knows it won’t last now that Cas is here to spend time with, he wants to give him a glimpse before it fades.

“You took a lot of pictures of -” Cas begins before he looks up and sees Dean without a shirt on. He stops mid-sentence and stares, pinning Dean in place with a gaze so hot he can almost feel it as Cas drags his eyes from his shoulders down to where he left his jeans unbuttoned. “You look different.”

That’s not exactly the kind of reaction he was expecting, so he shrugs his shoulders and takes the few remaining steps towards his dresser. “Spent a lot of time at the gym while we were apart.”

Cas crawls across the bed to get to his feet, but his wings beat him there, and Dean sucks in a sharp breath when he feels his feathers floating along his skin. “Did you do this purposely to tempt me?” Castiel asks, his voice low the way it always goes when he’s turned on. Dean’s dick knows the tone well, too, if the way his jeans are tightening is anything to go by.

“Just wanted you to see how hard I’ve been working out tryin’ to match your abs of steel,” Dean teases, but he loses any sense of cockiness he was feeling only a second ago when Cas turns him and presses him into the wall by his shoulders. He leans in to scent him first, running his cheek along Dean’s neck and his fingers through his hair. His feathers rain down along the rest of his skin, effectively leaving his scent on his jeans and down his sides, too.

“I think I might have to feel them for myself to compare fairly,” Castiel says, and Dean’s cock goes from intrigued to fully on board between one breath and the next. Castiel’s eyes flutter shut and he drags in a long breath as his teeth bite down on his bottom lip. “I’m getting that you’re okay with that?” he checks, and Dean knows he must be able to smell how turned on he is.

“Seems only fair,” Dean answers, his voice remarkably steady.

Castiel’s hands start at his neck, sweeping thoroughly along each of his shoulders until he reaches his biceps, where he stops and squeezes. Dean’s sure his cock throbs in time with Castiel's fingers closing around his bulging arms. Cas maintains eye contact the whole time as he continues down his forearms and over to his stomach. His warm palms press firmly to his skin, his wrists just touching the waistband of his jeans, and his long, nimble fingers dancing beside his belly button. If he wasn’t so turned on by how good it feels to have Cas touching him again, it would probably tickle. But all he can think about is how Cas could start moving those hands down and into his pants any second now and apparently that doesn’t leave any room in his brain for ticklish.

Cas keeps his hands on his stomach for some time, thoroughly tracing the newly defined lines of his abs with his index finger. He thinks he’s done when they move back up his torso to tease over his nipples, but his alula feathers take their place, ghosting over his skin and making his now heavy breaths shudder while he struggles to keep his cool. Then Castiel’s fingers dance through his chest hair and track a lazy pattern across his clavicle.

“You’re radiating strength, power, and manliness,” Castiel tells him, startling him by speaking for the first time in what feels like hours. “I find I’m just as attracted to you like this as I was before, but I do admit I rather miss the softness of your belly pudge,” he says earnestly.

Dean huffs out a bit of a laugh, wondering what it says about Cas that he misses what Dean always considered to be his biggest physical flaw. “Don’t worry, after all that bacon we just ate it’ll be back in no time.” Castiel smiles genuinely and it makes him wonder if maybe he’s more attracted to his slightly softer body. Maybe Cas isn't into built guys the way he is? “You don’t think it’s too much, though? The muscles?”

“Not too much, no. Honestly, I feel certain I’d be attracted to you in any shape or form.”

“And you didn’t even get a good look at my back yet,” Dean teases, feeling bolder now that Cas has reassured him.

Castiel groans and he’s pushed into the wall once more, this time with their groins pressed together, effectively erasing any doubt about how badly Cas wants him. “You’re going to have to stay facing me while you put your shirt on, because I can’t possibly resist you after seeing that.”

Dean licks his lips, purposely leaving his pouty bottom lip glistening, and says, “I think I missed the part about why you gotta resist at all?”

Cas inches in a tiny bit closer and now Dean can smell his crisp scent invading his nostrils. “We’ve been apart for an entire season. I didn’t think it would be appropriate or appreciated to dive right back into fooling around.”

Dean’s lips quirk at Cas remembering that particular phrase. “Cas, _we’ve been apart for an entire season,”_ he repeats slowly. “Anything you wanna give me that’s not my own hand would be appropriate and really frigging appreciated.” Castiel’s usually bright blue eyes have turned dark as storms somewhere along the way, but Dean can still see the conflict swirling inside of them as easy as anything. “Cas, listen. I care about you,” he reminds him. “So damn much. And as much as I want you, this isn’t just messing around for me, so if you’re not ready to jump back into the physical stuff, that’s okay. I waited this long, I can wait however long you need.”

“I want to. I want _you,_ as I’m sure you can tell,” Cas says with a breath of laughter. “It’s been a very long couple of months without you, thinking about you, pining for you, imagining what I might do to you when I finally got the chance again.”

Dean’s hands find Castiel’s hips as he talks, tracing the elastic band of his sweatpants, waiting anxiously for the okay to push them down and drop to his knees. “The anticipation’s kinda killing me here.”

 _“But,”_ Castiel says, putting extra emphasis on that and dragging a teasing groan out of Dean that makes Cas smile. “I think I would feel better if we spent more time together first.”

He’s got a feeling it’s gonna take some time to talk his boner down, but Cas’s feelings are more important than that. “I get it,” Dean assures him. “And it’s not a big deal, okay? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

Castiel’s eyes go all soft and he plants a chaste but worshipful kiss on his lips. “I, on the other hand, need to get out of this room to let you finish getting dressed before you turn around or bend over or look at me the right way and I completely change my mind.”

“In that case, I think you should stay,” Dean jokes.

Castiel snorts with laughter as he takes a step away. Even with the sweatpants covering it, his erection bobs in front of him obscenely, drawing both of their gazes. He clears his throat and meets Dean’s eyes somewhat shyly. “It’s been a long few months.”

“You don’t gotta tell me," Dean snickers. "Now get outta here before I tackle you.” He says it lightly so Cas knows he isn’t serious, and Cas smiles at his joke as his wings swish through the doorway. He thuds his head back against the wall three times, hoping the dull pain might talk his dick down, but when it’s still as hard as a rock a few seconds later, he goes back to searching for a shirt and hopes it flags on its own.

He goes with a black undershirt and a forest green and white plaid flannel shirt that he leaves open at the front. By the time he’s got his socks on and walks back into the living room, his dick’s only slightly plump hanging between his legs.

“What’d you think of the pictures?” Dean asks as he plops himself down on the couch beside Cas.

Cas surprises him by tugging him down until they’re lying belly to belly with Dean’s head resting on his chest. He melts into his familiar warmth eagerly; he’s missed the cuddling as much or maybe more than anything else.

“I wasn’t expecting so many,” Cas admits. “And your house, where you live when you’re not here? It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen!”

“I might’ve gotten carried away taking as many as I did,” he laughs. “Did you like the house?”

“It was fascinating to see so many rooms and all the space you have, but I was particularly interested in your bedroom. Everything about it really seems to suit you,” he says. “But I’m also curious. What do you do with so much room?”

“Huh?”

“There seemed to be so much empty space. So many rooms all spread out all throughout your house. How do you possibly use them all?”

“Oh,” Dean says, thinking. “I guess I just put different stuff in each room. Mostly to fill the empty space,” he comments, only now realizing how strange that is. “But when I first bought it I thought maybe someday I’d have a couple of kids to fill the rooms with.”

“You want children?” Castiel asks, surprise audible in his voice.

“No, not anymore. I wouldn’t have minded if I had some, though. I think I woulda been a cool dad.”

“You would be a wonderful father,” Castiel agrees warmly. “You’re naturally caring and nurturing.”

“That ship’s sailed.” He snuggles into Castiel’s chest a little closer, enjoying the closeness and how easy it is to just talk. “It wasn’t something I was dying for or anything. Just leaves a lot of extra space at home. Though honestly, the whole time I was there I kept thinking that it didn’t really feel like home anymore.”

Castiel’s finger starts tracing patterns on his shoulder blades. “Why do you think that is?”

“I think I started thinking of this place as home.”

Cas kisses the top of his head and he wonders if that was supposed to count as the silent _me too_ he heard in his head. But then he says it. “I think I did, too.” And Dean doesn’t think his heart’s ever felt so full.

“The whole time I was back in Kansas, in what’s supposed to be my place, I kept thinking that I couldn’t see you there,” Dean tells him. “Felt all wrong. I thought about selling it, but I don’t really know where I’d go.”

“Where do you want to go?” Castiel asks him.

Dean huffs quietly. “Like you don’t already know.”

He feels Castiel’s nose bury itself in his hair as he holds him close. “I do, and quite honestly, it’s already causing me to tell myself not to think about the next time we’ll have to go our separate ways.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Dean promises. There’s a sudden lump in his throat that he forces down. “Four months is a lot of time to make plans.”

“Alright,” Castiel breathes. He isn’t sure if Cas actually believes him or if he just doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, but he doesn’t want to talk about it either, so he lets it go.

“I had a guy from town come to check out the bedroom wall,” Dean tells him, willing and eager to change the subject. “He said as long as we don’t touch the wall separating the kitchen from the spare bedroom the roof will stay standing.”

“You want to remove the middle wall?”

“Yeah. Make our room bigger, make more space for your wings, maybe put a small electric fireplace in there to help keep it warm at night.”

“I thought that was my job,” Cas says suggestively.

“Yeah, but with both you and the fireplace, I can basically sleep naked and not get cold.”

“I always knew you were smart,” Castiel deadpans, earning himself a laugh.

“Once we’re settled in again, maybe we can start on the renovation?”

“I would love to. It’s been much too long since I was able to do any kind of wood working.”

“Guess you can’t do that when you migrate, huh? Can’t exactly carry the tools with you.”

“No,” Castiel says sadly.

That prompts a discussion about the kinds of things Cas does to pass the time while he’s away from home, and from there, they go back and forth telling stories of what they missed in each other’s lives since they parted ways. He’s pretty sure they both gloss over the worst parts - he doesn’t mention his nightmares or anxiety attacks, and Cas doesn’t mention feeling alone or hopeless - but it’s enough to just lie in each other’s arms and talk. As much as he enjoys his solitude up here away from everything else, it’s unbelievably nice to have Cas by his side again.

He shows Cas the new TV, how to work the remote, and how to operate Netflix. Cas can’t read (though that’s something he hopes they can work on in time) but he shows him how to pick shows based on the pictures by using the arrows.

It somehow doesn’t surprise him that Cas chooses a baking show, but he _is_ surprised that Cas has never had pie. Once he gets over the initial shock, he realizes he shouldn’t be surprised considering angels don’t exactly have ovens, but it gives him the perfect excuse to introduce him to it, so they spend the afternoon making an apple pie from scratch. They work well together, sharing the tiny kitchen space easily even with Castiel’s wings always in the way, and it’s a nice, innocent way for the two of them to get comfortable with each other’s touch again. And it’s obviously working, if the way Cas can’t seem to keep his hands off of him is any indication.

It reminds him of when they were first getting to know each other and Cas was secretly working on scenting him. The way Cas claps a hand down on his shoulder but lets his touch linger before he moves on, how his fingers slip through his short hair at the base of his neck, the way his palms run up and down his arms, how his fingers slowly climb the vertebrae of his spine or find the belt loops on his jeans, and their fingers fold together when their hands aren’t busy (and sometimes even when they are).

Once the apple pie is successfully in the oven, Dean catches Cas scraping his finger through the bowl that was used for the filling and stealing a taste. “Excuse you,” Dean says haughtily, snatching the bowl back from him. “Licking the bowl out is _my_ specialty.”

“That’s the thing about relationships, Dean,” Cas says patiently, as if he’s some kind of expert. “It requires sharing the things that previously only belonged to you.”

“You can have half my house, but I ain’t giving up the pie filling bowl for nothin’ or nobody,” Dean says firmly. “And the same goes with the beaters from cake mixes,” he says as that occurs to him. “Mine.”

“Hmmm,” Castiel hums, stepping into his space like a predator. Dean can feel his pulse quicken just from the way he’s looking at him. “If memory serves, I recall you saying that about me in that exact same tone of voice several times. In bed.”

Dean licks his lips nervously as a flash of desire runs through him at the pointed reminder. “Well, if there’s two things I’m possessive over, I guess it’s dessert and you.”

Castiel smiles knowingly, stepping even closer until his long, nimble fingers curl around the edges of the metal bowl. “That makes me think the two things would go together well.” Dean’s pretty sure his mind short circuits at the very idea of Cas and pie filling mixed together, which is why he can’t get a word out before Cas says, “Don’t you agree?”

Dean can’t quite come up with the witty retort the situation calls for because he’s distracted by Cas running his index finger through the filling smeared on the side of the bowl a second time and lifting it to Dean’s mouth. Green finds blue as their eyes meet in the scant space between them, Castiel’s thick finger presses down on Dean’s full bottom lip, and Dean’s dick lets its presence be known as it twitches with eager interest when Castiel’s low voice demands, “If you want to lick it up so badly, lick.”

He doesn’t have a chance to wrap his lips around the tip of his finger and tease him the way he’d like to, because that thick finger is already sliding between his lips and along his tongue, inching back towards his throat as the sweet, tart flavor explodes along his taste buds. He only loses himself to the surprise for a moment, and then he curves his tongue along Castiel’s finger and closes his lips around it, lowering his neck to take him further into his mouth. Castiel’s breath catches in the most satisfying way, but then he withdraws his finger quickly, leaving Dean with the perfect excuse to run his tongue along the seam of his lips slowly while maintaining eye contact.

He just gets a teasingly soft, _“Mmmm,”_ out before he has a newly dipped finger between his lips. This time he was ready for it, so he curls his tongue around Castiel’s finger and bobs his head up and down, lapping up every drop until all he can taste is the distinct flavor of Castiel’s skin. He makes a sound of protest when Cas takes his finger out again, but when he brings it back once more covered in pie filling, Dean grabs his hand and holds it still while he works his mouth over his thick digit. His eyes stay on Castiel’s, drinking in the way they’ve darkened, squirming in place when the heat of desire singes his skin where they’re currently trained on his mouth. Emboldened, he scrapes his teeth over the pad of his finger and sucks on the tip, swirling his tongue around it twice.

By the time Castiel’s mouth captures his in a kiss so hot he wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to have actual steam coming out of his ears, he’s completely forgotten about the clatter of the bowl on the floor. It spins on the wood, making a hollow, rotating sound that he doesn’t hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears. Castiel’s lips are rough and eager, his hands possessive and sure as he pushes him back against the counter and thrusts his tongue into his mouth. Dean’s all kinds of worked up and he responds eagerly, pressing his body against Castiel’s for more, fingers threading into soft hair to get a good grip while he assaults his mouth with everything he’s got.

Castiel’s muscular thigh wedges its way between Dean’s legs, and Dean adjusts enthusiastically, slotting his hardening cock up against it and feeling Castiel’s answering erection pressing ardently into his pelvis. Their chests come together, Castiel’s hands run up his back and over his shoulders as he groans into his mouth. Dean turns to mouth along his jaw, using his hands in his hair to tilt Castiel’s head to the side so he can make his way back to the sensitive spot behind his ear. Castiel’s breath comes out shuddering when he finds the right spot, his big hands slipping back down his sides and firmly grasping his hips.

Excitement leaps in Dean’s stomach when he feels Castiel's hands continue down to the backs of his thighs because he knows he’s about to be lifted like he weighs nothing, and sure enough, he’s hefted onto the counter. Castiel’s hands guide his legs around his waist, and then he’s yanking Dean’s mouth back down to his and stealing his breath with another kiss. His hands are everywhere: sliding up his thighs, pushing up the back of his shirt, roaming over his biceps and up to his shoulders, running along his chest and up to the back of his neck. Dean leans into every touch, making enthusiastic sounds and needy moans and whimpers that he’s sure he’ll be embarrassed about later, but when Castiel pushes his flannel off of his shoulders and lifts his shirt up to bare his chest, he doesn’t care about anything but Cas.

His fingers wind themselves back into Castiel’s now wild hair as Cas retraces the journey his hands took with his mouth. Castiel’s lips travel over his collarbone, teeth scrape over his Adam’s apple, and his tongue swirls around his nipple until Dean’s sure he’s died and gone to heaven. Then _finally_ he feels Castiel’s wings encircle him again, those incredibly soft feathers falling onto his bare skin, and he can’t hold in a reverent, _“Cas._ Missed you.”

“I missed you so much,” Castiel answers, moving his mouth back up to catch Dean’s in another kiss.

Dean’s hands itch to run through his feathers, to feel them between his fingers and hear Cas lose himself with pleasure. When they come apart for air he gasps it out. “Can I touch your wings?” When Cas hesitates, he sighs unhappily. “I missed them. Wanna feel them. Wanna feel _you,_ Cas, c’mon.”

Castiel buries his face in the crook of Dean’s neck, breathing heavily. Dean runs his hands up and down the feather-free space on his back, enjoying the ripple of muscles beneath his palm but still craving his feathers. Castiel seals his mouth over Dean’s pulse point, sucking gently but with obvious purpose, and a lazy smile comes is on Dean’s lips when he says, “Yours, Cas.”

Cas works over that one spot until Dean can feel it grow tender and sore. Finally, he pulls away and gazes up at Dean, looking debauched and hot as hell, but also slightly chagrined. “I think I forgot how intensely attracted I am to you. I didn’t mean to do this yet.”

“Why won’t you let me touch your wings?” Dean asks, still focused on that. He’s actually hurt, insulted in a way, that Cas won’t let him touch them. He knows they’re such an important part of him, of the way angels get close to one another, and he can’t understand why Cas won’t allow them to have that.

Castiel huffs out a breath through his nose, his hands coming up to frame Dean’s face. He leans in to kiss him softly, tenderly, making something inside of him ache with the need to be closer still.When Cas pulls away, he says, “I know the moment I do, every last shred of my control will vanish and I’ll have you naked and flat on your back beneath me where my erection is currently trying to convince my brain you belong.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Dean says, winding his arms around Castiel’s neck and swooping down to nibble on his bottom lip, dragging it between his teeth while he rolls his hips purposely into his boyfriend. “I can get on top,” he suggests, pitching his voice low and sexy. “You can watch me move on top of you, my ass riding against your cock with my hands buried in your wings for leverage.”

“You keep talking like that and I’m not even going to make it out of my pants,” Castiel says with clenched teeth. He crashes their lips back together, hand low on Dean’s back, fingers slowly inching their way towards his ass and rocking him against him. Dean’s more than happy to stay just like this - to rut until they come with their lips still pressed together and his legs wrapped around Castiel’s waist - and he throws himself into it. He grinds his crotch into Castiel’s the best he can from this angle (though he’s up a little bit too high for it to work as well as it could) and concentrates on helping Cas let go of whatever last shred of control he’s still holding on to.

When Cas seems just as on board as he is, he pushes his luck by sliding one hand away from his neck, slowly down his chest, and straight to the elastic band of his sweatpants. Cas tenses slightly, so he focuses again on kissing him stupid while his fingers tease at the line of fabric until he relaxes again. Then, deliberately slowly so Cas can stop him if he wants to, he runs his hand over the front of his pants and palms over the rock solid length of his boyfriend for the first time in more than three months.

Cas bucks into his hand desperately, a cry torn from his throat as he gives himself over to the pleasure Dean’s so eager to give him. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous, Cas,” Dean murmurs against his lips, still intermittently biting and sucking on his kiss-swollen flesh even though Cas is now too far gone to participate. He revels in each stuttered breath, the crisp and distinct scent of his breath tantalizing enough that he can’t make himself back away even a little bit. He runs his hand along his shaft again, heat coursing through him when he feels how eagerly Cas is moving against it. “So hard for me. So gorgeous. God, I missed you,” he breathes.

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice is unbelievably low, so fucking sexy, just hearing him like this gets his blood boiling.

“I wanna make you feel so good, angel,” Dean tells him. “Make you feel as good as you are. As good as you deserve.”

This time his name comes out like a whine as Castiel’s hips lose their rhythm pushing into his hand. _“Dean.”_

Castiel’s fingers clamp down around his wrist and for one heart-wrenching moment he thinks Cas is gonna stop him, but then Cas covers Dean’s hand with his and urges it up and back down past the elastic band into his pants.

He smirks and sucks Cas’s top lip into his mouth. “Mmhmm,” Dean hums against his lips, his fingers quickly trailing down his boyfriend’s cock until he can take him in his fist. They groan in sync when he finds Cas’s cock hot and weeping for him, and because all he can think about is taking his cock into his mouth and he knows he can’t yet, he seals his lips onto his neck instead, sucking and licking at his skin. Cas is gripping onto his shoulder blades for dear life now, his fingers digging deeper and deeper into his flesh as he pushes his cock into Dean’s hand more frantically with each second that passes. “That’s it, baby,” Dean encourages him, thumbing along the underside as he keeps jerking him. He moves his lips under Castiel’s jaw, nipping and sucking as he goes, feeling his heart thumping wildly on his neck when he gets there. “Come apart for me, angel. You can let go. Just feel it, Cas.”

He runs his hand up to the tip, letting the spongy head of his cock ram into his palm, smearing his precum and sliding his hand back down. He feels the vibrations on his lips when Castiel makes a strangled sound in his throat, his nails dig crescents into his skin, and he suddenly tenses up, forcing his face into Dean’s neck where he breathes in deeply. His shoulders lift and hold for a heartbeat, then his entire body shudders as he comes into Dean’s hand, his release thick and sticky over his fingers, one long, low-pitched moan spilling out along with his cum.

Castiel's wings unfurl with a _snap,_ sending that same damn chair he knocked over so many months ago to the ground with a crash, and when they arch high up over his back making his angel look impressive and powerful, Dean goes slack jawed with wonder. He unwinds his one free hand from around Castiel’s neck to press down on his own aching cock and comes like a rocket. He jerks in Castiel’s arms, moaning as he rides his own hand and the waves of pleasure that roll over him when Castiel nuzzles lovingly into his neck, breathing out his name again and again as his hands sweep over his body lovingly.

He slumps forwards, dropping his head onto Castiel’s shoulder and letting Castiel take most of his weight as he goes completely boneless. Cas pulls him into his arms, his wings wrapping around him once more as he presses a kiss to his temple before he scoops him off of the counter and carries him back over to the couch. He lies them both down chest-to-chest the same way they were before, but this time, he positions Dean’s head to rest on his shoulder so he can press his nose to his pulse point. Castiel’s fingers comb through his hair in a soothing pattern, his lips brushing over his neck so often they may as well take up a permanent residence there, and Dean drops into sleep faster and easier than he has in months.

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Dean lurches into awareness at the sound of the oven’s timer going off, scrambling to his feet to run over to turn it off.

“What is that?” Castiel asks, sounding worried.

“Oven,” Dean answers on a yawn. “Pie’s done.” He pulls the ancient floral oven mitt off of the hook it hangs on and opens the oven door, wafting in the scent of sweet apple pie. Only after he removes it from the oven does he notice the bowl of apple pie filling sitting upside down on the wooden floor, and the equally sticky mess in his pants that has dried into something truly sickening while they were sleeping.

He glances over at Cas to see him also looking down at his crotch in disgust and hears himself snickering. Cas looks up at him questioningly and Dean shrugs, grinning. “I’ve got the same thing goin’ on over here.” He gestures vaguely between his legs. “Just funny to see you looking exactly like I’m thinking. We’re both gonna need more pants. C’mon,” Dean offers.

Dean hands him a pair of black sweatpants and he strips off his boxers and jeans to trade for another pair, both of them changing in their bedroom silently. He keeps getting the feeling like Cas is watching him, but each time he looks, Cas is looking away. After just missing his gaze for the fourth time, he zips up and takes the few steps towards him.

He slides his hands up his chest and around his neck, his thumbs brushing through his hair while Castiel’s wings come around him. “What’s up, Cas?”

“I didn’t mean for what happened between us in the kitchen to escalate so quickly,” he says shyly.

Dean frowns and tries not to show how a knot is slowly beginning to grow in his stomach. “Did I push too hard?”

Castiel shakes his head, lifting his lips to press against Dean’s in a silent apology. “Of course not. You would never do that.”

“I knew you wanted to wait, but you got me so worked up I just went for it anyway,” he admits, guilt quadrupling inside of him. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Cas.”

“Dean, no,” Cas says firmly. “I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. What I wanted to say was that even though I didn’t mean for us to do that, I’m glad we did.” Dean furrows his brows, not sure exactly what to say. “I think we both needed it to take the edge off, and now we can enjoy the rest of the day together without constantly trying and failing to ignore the attraction between us.”

Dean nods, snuggling into Castiel’s arms and lying his head on his shoulder. “I’m still sorry if I made you do something you didn’t wanna do yet.”

“You didn’t,” Cas says again. “I was the one who wanted you to eat pie filling off of my finger, knowing fully well how irresistible you look with your lips wrapped around anything.”

“I’m the one who was tryin’ to tease you by turning it into a blow job.”

“And I was the one who kissed you, who pushed you against the wall, lifted you onto the counter, and pushed your hand down my pants,” Castiel says firmly.

Dean laughs a little, standing up straight again to smirk down at him. “You kinda did, didn’t you?”

“It seems your bad influence has had a lasting effect on me,” Castiel says with a smirk of his own.

“I’ve literally never been more proud.”

Castiel laughs, his nose scrunching up at the sides as he shakes his head lightly. Then he cocks his head to the side and huffs out a breath. “I don’t know if I’ve laughed since the last time I was with you.”

Dean silently swears there and then that he will make Castiel laugh every day he’s lucky enough to spend with him. He tries to hide the sadness in his eyes and asks, “You feelin’ better now than you were when you got here? More like yourself?”

“Much better.” Cas catches his lips in another quick kiss and asks, “When can we eat the pie?”

Dean can’t help the spread of his smile. He’s so fucking happy to have Cas back in his house and his arms and eating his food. “Not soon enough.”

 

They forgo lunch altogether since he and Cas almost devour the entire pie, but that just gives them more time to watch the sunset together out at their spot.

“I came out here a lot when you were gone,” Dean tells Cas, leaning back against his strong chest. “Made me miss you so much it actually hurt.”

“I wish I could have been here.”

Dean drops his head back against his shoulder. “You’re here now.”

“And I’m freezing,” Castiel admits, pulling him in closer.

“I told you to bring the blanket!” Dean says, turning in his arms so that he can hold him. “Let’s go back in.”

“Just a few more minutes,” Castiel insists, turning them so they can both see the sun setting. “I like being here with you.”

“It’ll still be here when it’s not so cold, though,” Dean reminds him, trying and failing to keep his insides from turning to mush.

Castiel’s cheek is cold where it rests against his, so he lifts his gloved hand to cover it for him. “I missed you every moment,” Cas says suddenly. “I missed having you close. I missed your scent, your voice, the way you fit inside my wings.”

“Cas,” Dean sighs.

“When I landed, I made my nest big enough for two, even though I knew you wouldn’t be there,” he says, whispering again. “Because something inside of me - my instincts, my heart, I don’t know - knew I should always have room for you.”

“Kinda like how I kept your side of the bed empty back in Kansas even though I knew you weren’t gonna be there,” Dean offers.

“Hmmm,” Cas hums quizzically. “What do you think it says about us that we both left space for the other in places we knew they’d never fill?”

“Hopeless romantics?” Dean asks. “Sappy sons of bitches? Pathetic in every way imaginable?”

“All true,” Cas agrees with a laugh. “But I admit I was hoping you’d say something about how we must not have stopped falling in love even though we were apart.”

“Coulda just asked.” Again, he surprises himself with how easy it is to admit aloud when it comes to Cas. “'Cause I never stopped, Cas. One glimpse of you sleeping on my couch was proof enough of that.” Cas rubs his cheek against his, the simple gesture causing his heart to swell. “It’s never been like this for me before. You’re...” He pauses, searching for the right word. _“More.”_

“Thank you for telling me.” They stand just looking at each other for several long seconds until Cas leans in to kiss him. His lips are cold and stiff, and Dean shivers in his arms.

“Let’s get back inside before we freeze together,” Dean suggests.

“Let’s go home.”

He figures Cas calling his cabin home is enough to keep him warm for years to come, but he doesn’t say as much, and instead, his gloved hand takes Castiel’s and they walk back home together.

Dinner that night is homemade pizza, and after watching Castiel’s long fingers efficiently kneading the dough, Dean’s decided that cooking with Cas is one of his new favorite things. He leans on the counter and watches him work, thoughts of thousands of more days spent just like this dancing through his mind.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Officer Winchester?” Castiel asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Don’t call me that, you little shit,” Dean says, pointing a finger at him and causing Cas to scrunch up his nose in an attempt to keep from laughing. “I was just thinkin’ about how nice this is. How I can see us doing this, making dinner every night and just...” He shrugs, knowing how corny he sounds and going for it anyway. “Being happy.”

“Come over here and kiss me,” Castiel says, crooking his flour covered finger. Dean goes willingly, taking advantage of the fact that Cas is reluctant to touch him with his dirty hands and cupping the back of his neck to pull him in for a kiss. Their lips linger, coming apart and brushing back together again and again until they’re both quietly breathless and Dean feels genuinely weak in the knees. “I never would have guessed you’d be this sweet.”

He can feel his face heat up and he looks away to try to save face as Cas begins rolling out the dough. “Guess three months of wishing I’d told you all the sappy shit I thought of when I had the chance made a bit of an impression.”

“So I should expect this to wear off as you get used to me again, then?” Castiel asks.

Dean grins at his playful tone of voice. “Yeah, probably.”

“Oh, good. I’m used to being the one sweeping you off of your feet, not the other way around.”

Even after being teased about how sappy he’s being, he can’t wipe the soft, indulgent smile off of his face for the rest of the night. They finish off a pizza and a half, which Dean washes down with beer he allows Cas a few sips of. Even that seems to go to his head, and if Dean thought he was smiling earlier, it’s nothing compared to how he can’t stop grinning at Castiel’s low-pitched giggling.

He loves him so much.

Their good moods follow them to bedtime, where they fall back into the routine of brushing their teeth side by side and taking turns using the bathroom until they’re skin-to-skin in bed.

“I think I missed the wing burrito more than anything,” Dean admits quietly into the dark.

“Me, too,” Castiel agrees, nuzzling into his neck. Dean soaks it up, closing his eyes and just letting himself feel it.

“Was worth it,” Dean says suddenly.

“What’s that?”

“Waiting for you to come back. Nobody else coulda made me feel like this.”

He feels warm lips brush his skin. “I hope nobody else ever does.” _I love you._ He says it in his head and licks his lips trying to build up the courage to say it out loud, but then Cas interrupts him by saying, “I like this new bed.”

He clears his throat and answers, “Good.”

Castiel’s wings start twitching and Dean’s wondering what he’s thinking about that makes him nervous when Cas comes out with it. “Would it be weird for you if after we knock out the wall here, we could maybe sleep with the mattress closer to the ground?”

“Hm?”

“Angel nests are buried into the ground,” Castiel says. “I know you’re not an angel, and obviously we’re not going to dig a hole in your house, but would it be too strange to ask to leave the mattress on the floor instead of built up the way it is right now?”

Dean rolls over in his arms until they’re face to face. “We can do that tomorrow if you want. Take the bed apart and just leave the mattress on the floor. I didn’t know you wanted that.”

“I’m very happy to be here with you, to use your stove and eat your food, to stay as long as you’ll have me. But I don’t want to lose who I am along the way.”

“I don’t want that either,” Dean promises him, kissing his forehead. “We can sleep on the ground, Cas. I’m good with that.”

“Can I use blankets or fabric to make it look round?”

Dean smiles softly. “Anything you want. Hell, you can bring your nest pillow here and I’d sleep on that on the ground if you want.”

Castiel laughs lightly and his alula feathers brush his cheek. “I may end up bringing it here for storage, but I like this bed. It’s ours.”

“We could put the nest pillow in front of the fire place,” Dean offers.

Castiel’s eyes light up. “I like that idea.”

“If there’s anything else you need, any angel things or even Cas things, just lemme know, okay? I want you to be happy no matter what that looks like.”

“As long as it looks like you, I’ll be happy.” Dean tucks himself under Castiel’s chin, into the nook of his shoulder and feels himself go boneless with relief. He missed this _so much._ “Will you groom my wings tomorrow?”

“I’ll groom them right now,” Dean says excitedly, getting a chuckle from Cas.

“Tomorrow will be fine, though I promis I’m just as anxious as you are.”

“Thought you weren’t gonna let me,” Dean tells him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t comfortable with the idea right away, but I’m there now. I trust you and I care for you so deeply, and I want your hands in my wings again.”

“Can I touch ‘em now?” Dean asks, and permission is granted in the form of Castiel’s alulae spreading and pressing between his fingers. Dean hums happily as he runs his fingers over one feather at a time, then slides his hands over his shoulders and into the thick plumage. The familiar scent of wood shavings fills the air and he inhales deeply. “I missed this so much, Cas. You have no idea. I slept with your feathers every night even when they stopped smelling like you, but it just wasn’t the same,” he croaks, his eyes misting over with how calm and steady he feels with his fingers surrounded by soft feathers again. “I know I keep saying it, but I missed you, angel. Missed these. _So much.”_

“It feels so right when you touch them,” Castiel breathes happily. “Like two pieces that were always meant to go together. I’m going to sleep better tonight with you holding onto them and wrapping you up in my wings than I have since I left. I ached for you every night, sweetheart. It never got easier.”

“For me neither,” Dean agrees. Then he admits quietly, “I’m still having nightmares.”

“Oh, Dean,” Cas says sadly, holding him even closer. “It’s killed me to think about you dealing with them on your own while I was gone.”

“I’ll probably wake you up again,” he says, sad to think he’s going to ruin a peaceful sleep for Cas.

“I promise you there is nowhere else I would rather be than in this bed being woken up by you. I’ll be right here when you need me tonight. And every night for the foreseeable future, okay? Now that we have more time, we can deal with it together.”

 _I love you,_ echoes in his head again, but he swallows it down.

“Thanks, Cas.”

“Sleep well, Dean.”

For the first night in more than three months, Dean falls asleep without a worry in the world.


	19. Chapter 19

As time passes, Dean and Cas continue to fall more and more in love with each other. They turn what was always supposed to be a summer cabin into their forever home a little bit more every day. Cas makes his first trip to his cave a few weeks after he returns, and his things from his home slowly begin to migrate to Dean’s. They use his plates, bowls, and spoons, and Castiel carves a second mug for Dean that he uses for his morning coffee. They knock out the wall, and after a week of sleeping in a construction zone, their bed becomes a nest in the center of the floor, surrounded by Castiel’s old loin cloths (which he no longer wears), old sheets, and whatever feathers Cas loses during his grooming. The bench from Castiel’s cave finds its place in their bedroom, Dean gets his electric fireplace for the corner, and morning orgasms become an (almost) daily occurrence when he starts sleeping in only boxer briefs.

Trips into town become a regular thing as they keep ordering in what they need to turn their cabin into their home. Dean becomes more friendly with Bobby, and he and Jody run into each other a handful of times and wind up talking shop more than he has since the shooting. Every time he repeats their conversations to Cas, Cas smiles at him proudly, and Dean finds himself straightening his shoulders a little more than usual and feeling worthy and important after having his boyfriend looking at him like that.

When the snow melts and the ground thaws, he makes Cas happier than he’s ever seen him when he asks him how he feels about starting a garden. From that day forward, it’s not unusual to see Castiel on his hands and knees digging in the dirt (a view he hasn’t tired of yet) and soil gets added into his signature scent. His wings always look immaculate now, thanks to Dean, and with the sun tanning his skin golden brown again as it heats up outside, Dean can hardly keep his hands off of him. Their sex life is still passionate and fulfilling, which is surprising for Dean since they’ve yet to have actual penetrative sex. He knows it’s something special between bonded pairs only, though, and so as much as a part of him is dying to have something more than Castiel's thick fingers deep inside of him, he doesn’t push.

Spring is in full swing now, and they spend more time outdoors than he ever has in his life. They hike the trails, sit out on their spot together, fish off of the dock, swim in the still cold lake, and cook over the fire. Dean’s soon covered in freckles from so much sun, and Castiel makes it his mission to kiss every new one he finds, despite Dean’s half-hearted complaints. In all honesty, he enjoys the never-ending affection and the warm way Cas keeps looking at him every single day. His favorite place in the entire world remains wrapped up in Castiel’s wings, no matter where they happen to be when he feels them come around him. He is head over heels for the angel in every way imaginable, and the only thing hanging over his head to keep him from being one hundred percent happy is knowing that he only has two months left out here with him before he has to go back to Kansas for good.

On the first truly hot day in May, Cas gets a gleam in his eye and insists they pack a lunch so he can bring Dean to one of his favorite places. Dean asks about waiting until it isn’t so hot, but Cas assures him it won’t be so bad in the shade of the trees, and because he still hasn’t mastered how to say no to Cas when he knows saying yes would make him so happy, he agrees.

Cas cheats, as he usually does when they walk long distances, and flies most of the way a few feet over Dean’s head, flapping his wings and sending currents of cool air down upon him. Dean can’t keep his eyes off of him when he’s as smiley and carefree as he is now, so thankfully Cas is watching his step to stop him from tripping over exposed roots and loose rocks. They’ve been walking for a solid two hours and he has a crick in his neck from looking up at Cas so often when he first hears the distant rushing of water and smiles wide up at Cas. “A waterfall?”

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” he teases, but the closer they get, the more obvious it becomes.

Cas floats down to the ground to take Dean’s hand, then leads him through a small thatch of trees that might as well be the entrance to paradise. Exertion has nothing to do with the way he can hardly catch his breath when he takes in the sight before him. It’s a massive waterfall, surrounded by lush green plants dotted with bright pink and white flowers. The scent hits him next: fresh, clean water, and the best kind of _spring_ you can imagine, and with the sun warming his face now that they’re out of the trees, he can’t think of anything more perfect.

Right until Castiel hooks his chin over his shoulder and wraps his arms around him from behind, nuzzling into his neck with a pleased sounding hum.

“This is amazing,” Dean breathes, well aware that _amazing_ isn’t enough for how nice this is.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Cas asks rhetorically.

“Probably the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I used to think so, too, until I met you.”

“Oh, come on,” Dean scoffs, internally pleased that Cas still says shit like that about him after a few months together.

Cas leaves a smacking kiss on his cheek, then with a trail of laughter, he grabs his hand again and tugs him towards a bank of grass scattered with those white flowers he saw before. “Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

Dean smiles fondly. “When aren’t you hungry?”

“So I enjoy my boyfriend’s cooking. I don’t see you complaining.”

“Never,” Dean says earnestly. He had no idea how much he’d love doing the majority of the cooking for the person he loves, but it never seems to get old watching Cas enjoy the food he prepares for them.

“And I happen to know you have leftover chicken from last night in there,” Castiel says, pulling the bag off of Dean’s shoulders.

“Yeah, and salad,” Dean says, his nose scrunched up.

“You said you liked it with the dressing I made!” Castiel says, whirling on him indignantly.

“It’s _edible_ that way, yeah,” Dean backtracks. “But call a spade a spade, Cas. It’s still rabbit food.”

“Rabbit food I’ve been growing for the last forty-five days with my own two hands,” Cas reminds him. Which Dean knows is exactly how long it took for Cas to grow his first whole head of lettuce.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve got a green thumb, babe. Coolest thing ever,” he deadpans.

“You are such a brat,” Cas complains. “Just for that, I’m eating your chicken.”

“You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead fingers,” Dean says seriously, making Cas chuckle.

“Always so dramatic,” he sighs, plopping down on the grass and shaking his wings out until they settle beside him. “Space for you right here, sweetheart,” Cas says, leaning back and gesturing to his lap with a nod of his head.

Dean snorts. “You wish. Gimme the chicken.”

Castiel laughs again, producing Dean’s favorite sound in the entire world and one he knows he will never _ever_ get tired of hearing. “Now I know where I rank.”

“Baby, pie, beer, burgers -”

“Maybe you should just stop there,” Cas suggests. “I’m not sure my ego can take it if you go down much further.”

“Huh. I remember you bein’ all kinds of desperate for it when I go down,” Dean says with an eyebrow wiggle, settling on the grass next to him.

“Is that an invitation?”

Cas doesn’t have to know Dean’s dick _still_ twitches a little every time he pitches his voice low like that on purpose. “I’m hungry for chicken, Cas, not dick.”

“Pity,” he says airily

Dean snickers as he pulls out the container of chicken, a bowl of salad, a few homemade buns, and a thermos filled with the lemonade Cas made. “We really took the romantic setting here and dragged it to the gutter, huh?”

“I’m sure we live a life filled with more romance than most people,” Cas says, smiling warmly at him.

Dean glances over at the waterfall and back to Cas slowly, his eyes so fuckin’ blue outdoors they don’t even look real, and nods his head, smiling, as he hands Cas one of the wooden plates. “More than I ever thought I’d be able to stomach.”

“Perhaps finding the right person makes romance inevitable?”

Dean considers with a shrug. “I dunno. I’ve been in love before, but it was never this birds chirping, sun shining, life is wonderful kinda thing like it is with you.” Once the words are out, his hands still mid-way through shaking some salad onto his plate. That’s far from the first time he’s fucked up and let slip about how he’s in love with Cas, but with nothing but nature around them, he doesn’t have much to distract him with the way he usually would. He powers through with the salad and inwardly decides to just breeze past it.

Apparently, Cas is through with bullshitting their way around it though. “I don’t have as much as experience with love as you do, but it sounds to me like you just love me more than you loved those in the past.”

Dean’s sharp inhale is caught in his lungs. He can’t take a breath or exhale at all, so stunned with the way Cas is just putting it out there like that he doesn’t know what to do except tell him the truth. “I do,” he admits, looking up from his plate to look him in the eye. Maybe leftover fried chicken and last night’s salad isn’t the classiest way in the world to say it, but there’s no going back now. Not when Cas is looking at him with a combination of fear and hope. “I love you so much.”

When it comes, Castiel’s smile is brighter than the sun, his nose crinkled up on the sides and his gums showing above his teeth. “I love you, too, Dean. More than anything.”

The most intensely satisfying joy rises through him, filling him up from his toes to his ears, and his smile is so big he’s surprised his face doesn’t crack right in half. “Really?”

“I knew I was in love with you before I left to migrate,” Castiel admits. “I only realized it the day before, right before I left to catch you that duck and got my wings tangled in the fishing line.”

A quiet huff of laughter comes out with the breath Dean was holding, because he remembers that. He remembers wondering what was going on with Cas to make him look at him the way he did, and he was freaking out thinking that Cas could tell how much he loved him and that’s why he thought he was bailing when really, he was stuck in the fishing line.

“I went to get that duck in the first place because I wanted to prove to you that I could be a good mate. That I could be somebody worthy of asking you to spend your life with. Me and only me forever.”

Dean’s mouth is as dry as dust, but he manages to croak, “Are you askin’ me that right now?”

“That’s what’s in my heart,” Castiel says, his blue eyes radiating sincerity. “That’s what I want. The only reason I’m not asking you now is because I don’t know what’s going to happen when you go back home.”

“You’re my home,” Dean says without a thought.

“And you’re mine,” Cas says back just as fast. “But you know what I mean.”

“We’ll figure it out, Cas,” Dean promises. “I wanna be here with you. I want what you’re not asking, too.”

“You keep saying we’ll figure it out, but the days are dwindling and as far as I know, we’re no closer to a solution than we were when I first got back.”

“I know that,” Dean says, ducking his head to try to stave off the anger he feels. He doesn’t need Cas reminding him that he’s been useless so far. “You’re not the only one counting, Cas. You’re not the only one looking at the calendar and cursing every damn day as it comes because I know it’s one more day closer to losing you all over again.”

“I love you, Dean,” Castiel says earnestly. “If I have to wait to only see you four weeks out of the year while you’re on vacation, I will. I’ll be miserable and lonely without you, but I know the days with you will be worth it.”

“It won’t only be that, though,” Dean says. “I work shifts. Four days off and three days off. I can drive here on my days off.”

“You’ll be in the car for almost an entire day just driving,” Castiel says. “You’ll be dead on your feet.”

“I don’t care,” Dean says passionately. “I won’t sleep for shit without you anyway, so it’ll probably work out to more rest for me in the long run.”

“I wish I could come to you,” Castiel says quietly.

“I know you would if you could. I just wanna be with you, Cas. However that looks - if it’s different than the ideal situation for either of us - I don’t care as long as I can make you happy.”

“You make me happy every single day,” Cas tells him. “And that’s worth waiting for, however long it takes.”

Dean still doesn’t like it. It’s  _far_ from the picture he has in his head of falling asleep and waking up with the man he loves every day, but it’s also a hell of a lot better than thinking about breaking up and never having it again. A part of him knows it’s pretty much a lost cause, that if they have to do this long-distance thing it’s going to wind up with them breaking up anyway, and it hurts so fucking bad he can hardly breathe when he thinks about it.

So once again, he shoves it down.

“That’s why you want to propose,” Dean says with a smile, finally passing the bowl of salad to Cas.

“Propose what?”

Dean snorts with laughter, never getting tired of discovering the little things Cas doesn’t understand. “When two humans want to spend their lives together and want to make it legal, one of them typically gets down on one knee and offers the other person a ring. They _propose_ marriage, usually in a romantic setting. Some people make it a huge deal.”

“Have you ever proposed or been proposed to?” Castiel wonders.

“Nah,” Dean says with a shake of his head. “This, with you, is the first time I’ve ever really been able to _see_ my future with somebody. I could dream it up before if I really tried, wonder about what my life would look like or what we’d be like together forever, but with you it just sorta comes. I can see us sitting out on the deck when I’m bald with a beer belly, and you out in your garden even when your knees complain about it, still too stubborn to give in and stop.”

“And you rubbing the ointment into my knees so tenderly even though you’d be snipping about it under your breath the whole time,” Castiel says with a laugh.

It makes him laugh, too, and the two of them eat their lunch telling each other the glimpses of their future they’ve each had, their stories getting more and more ridiculous as they get. Dean comments on how he’s still gonna love him when Castiel’s wings turn grey, to which Castiel immaturely responds he’ll still love Dean when his pubes turn grey. Once the food is packed away, they tumble in the grass, play wrestling and making out in between laughing so hard Dean can’t catch his breath.

They go for a swim, the water cool and refreshing compared to the hot sun, and they exchange _I love you’_ s again after a kiss under the waterfall with Dean’s fingers grasping Castiel’s wet hair and Castiel’s hands spread wide and possessive over the dip of his back. They kiss again afterwards, and Dean feels the entire world narrow down to the two of them, to the sensation of Castiel’s wings on his bare skin and his hot lips claiming him as effectively as a brand.

Looking at Castiel’s blue eyes sparkling with happiness and his pink lips slightly swollen from how much they’ve been kissing causes his heart to soar. Everything he’s ever wanted is standing right in front of him.

“This is the best damn moment of my life,” Dean says roughly. Later, he’ll blame Castiel’s kiss for frying his brain cells, but nothing is more true than those words, and based on the way Cas looks at him after he says it, he’s almost positive he’s feeling the exact same way.

Though June dawns bright and hot, Dean can’t help but feel like there’s a dark cloud hovering over their cabin, over-full and swollen, just waiting for the final drop of moisture that will cause the worst storm of their lives to come crashing down on top of them.

They try so hard to be happy, and in a lot of ways they are both happier than they’ve ever been, but there’s a sharp edge of desperation that creeps in on them more and more as the days go by. Even in bed, Dean can feel the change, the way they both seek out more fast and frantic sex when they’d been entirely satisfied with the way things were before. But neither of them can deny the other, and by the time the middle of June’s come and gone, Dean’s making what he’s pretty sure is going to be his last trip to the general store absolutely _covered_ in marks from his boyfriend. It’s hot as balls outside, and he’s cursing Cas and his current obsession with hickies as he pops the collar on his short sleeve button up and feels it stick to the sweat on the back of his neck.

Thankfully, there’s a burst of air conditioning as he pulls open the door. “Look what the cat dragged in,” Bobby says with a tip of his hat.

“Hotter than six shades of hell out there,” Dean complains, swiping the back of his hand over his forehead.

“City boy,” Bobby murmurs under his breath, shaking his head. Dean chuckles as he grabs a basket, walking purposely down a couple of aisles and grabbing the few things he needs: ketchup, hamburger buns, cheese slices, vegetable oil, beer. He hears the ding of the door and glances up to see Sheriff Mills walking in.

She zeroes in on him and he chuckles again. “You got a tail on me or somethin’?” he asks her.

“What kind of cop are you to have to ask that question?” she asks back, grabbing a bag of Tostitos and a jar of salsa off of the shelf he’s standing in front of. “Not warm enough for ya today, you had to layer up?” she questions, nodding to his shirt.

Figuring the gig is up, he sighs and lowers his collar. “My boyfriend’s getting a little possessive over me going back home next month.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “You dating somebody local?”

“He’s kinda just here because I am for now.”

“No chance of him moving down to Kansas with you when you go?”

Dean shakes his head sadly. “He would if he could, but he’s kinda tied to where he is. Gonna suck leaving him behind.”

“Sounds like it,” she nods. “You have family back in Kansas you’re going home to?”

“No, it’s just me and my brother and he’s in Dallas now.”

“So what are you going back for? Work?”

“Guy’s gotta eat,” he says, gesturing to his basket.

She nods knowingly. “You think you’re ready to go back?”

“If I’m not over it after a year, when will I be?” Dean asks, not really expecting an answer.

“Ever think about moving to a smaller town? Somewhere you’re less likely to have to use your gun again? Somewhere closer to your boyfriend, maybe?”

Dean lifts his head to meet her gaze for the first time since he admitted to the hickies. She arches a brow at his scrutiny and laughs. “I’m not getting any younger, Dean. Been thinking about what I’d do when it’s time to hang up my hat, so to speak. You might be a good solution.”

Dean shakes his head in disbelief. “But you know I’m a mess.”

Jody gives him a once over and frowns. “Other than the hickies all over you, you look fit enough to me. Think you can pass the physical and mental evaluation to get back on the force?”

“I have to,” Dean says steadily. “I’m not living off of a handout forever, even if I technically paid into it the last twelve years on the force.”

“How do you feel about me contacting your superiors back in Kansas?” she asks suddenly.

Dean frowns. “For what, sir?”

“You give me the okay and they have nice things to say about you?” she shrugs teasingly. When he still can't believe it, she says, “Why don’t you come on down to the station Monday morning and we’ll sit down and go over the particulars, and see how you feel about being my deputy for the next few years?”

“Seriously?” he asks, gaping at her stupidly.

“Just a talk, Dean. No promises. Gotta talk to your department first, look over your record if you’ll give them the okay to send it to me.”

“Yes sir,” he says excitedly. “I’ll call them right now.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing from them. And Dean? We aren’t exactly rolling in it in a small town like this, so whatever your salary expectations are, cut ‘em in half -” Dean blanches at making _half_ of his meager pay. “- so I don’t have to see _that_ look on your face in my office,” she says, pointing at him and patting him on the shoulder before she walks back up to the counter. She pays for her stuff then turns to him again. “Monday, eleven o’clock. Bring coffee.”

Dean stands there in silence with his mind spinning for longer than he’d care to admit, and it’s only when Bobby says, “Hey, get your head outta the damn clouds and pay for your beer before it’s piss warm, ya idjit,” that he comes back down to the ground.

He doesn’t say a word to Cas when he gets back home, and though he asks several times about the sudden change in his mood, he asks Cas to just give him until tomorrow to explain. The only thing worse than getting his hopes up and then seeing them squashed before his eyes would be to see Cas go through the same thing.

“Why do you have to go again?” Cas pouts as Dean dresses in the nicest pair of jeans he owns and another button down shirt and his boots. “And why aren’t you wearing short pants when it’s this hot out?”

“‘Cause I gotta try to look professional, and considering I don’t exactly have dress clothes with me this is as good as it’s gonna get. I won’t be long,” he promises.

Cas folds his arms across his chest, his wings fluttering irritably. “I don’t like you keeping secrets from me.”

Dean sighs and approaches him to cord his fingers through his wings in an attempt at soothing him. “I’ll tell you what's goin' on as soon as I come back, okay, baby? You just gotta trust me.” Castiel’s wings arch into his touch, his feathers rippling more calmly now as Dean’s fingers pass through them. “I love you,” Dean tells him earnestly, planting a kiss on his jaw, and then adding a few more until Cas turns his head to meet his lips. They kiss like lovers who are parting because one of them is going off to war, and by the time the seal of their lips breaks, Dean’s heart has swelled several times past its normal size.

“I love _you,”_ Cas says. “Hurry back to me.”

“Always do.” They both do. Anytime Cas goes hunting or foraging or Dean goes into town, they make it as fast as possible, absolutely loathing being apart at all if they can help it. The best part of it all is that even though they’re sharing quite a small space for two big guys (and one huge ass pair of wings) Dean never feels like they’re constantly on top of one another.

Well, except for when they _are_ on top of one another, and there isn’t a damn thing to complain about there.

 _That’s_ a stupid train of thought to lose himself in on the way to what’s basically a job interview, for all intents and purposes, but at least it keeps his nerves tucked away. Right until he pulls in front of a plain brick building with a sign that says  _Crystal Falls Police Department._ He takes a few steadying deep breaths, fingers twisting his bracelet, and gets out of the car.

When he pulls open the unexpectedly sturdy door, he’s surprised to walk into what can only be described as an office rather than the front reception area he was expecting. Sheriff Mills is smiling at him from behind a desk in a worn but comfortable high back leather chair with a single jail cell behind her.

He lifts the take out cup of coffee he grabbed from the only coffee place he’s ever seen in town, and her smile grows. “Not a coffee drinker?” she asks him, standing to take the cup he offers.

“Oh I love my coffee,” he says, taking the seat when she gestures to it. “But if I drink another cup I’m afraid I’ll be bouncin’ off the walls on ya with all this nervous energy.”

Her smile warms, softens. “Don’t be nervous, we’re just talking,” she reminds him. “What do you think of the station?”

He can’t help the sideways grin. “It’s cozy.”

“Basically been home for the last twenty years,” she admits, looking around fondly.

“You been doing this on your own all that time?”

She bobs her head in response. “I did the same as you. Had a tragedy I needed to get away from, found myself here, landed myself a job, and never left. That the dream, Dean?”

“Never even considered looking for work closer to here before you mentioned it,” he says, shaking his head at his own stupidity. “Should’ve, because yeah. Being your deputy would give me the opportunity to have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“That boy of yours?”

“That’s a part of it, sir. But I’d also be proud to do what I can to protect the people here.”

She leans back in her seat, her index fingers forming a point in front of her lips. “After last year, do you think you could do that, push came to shove?”

The first sweat breaks across his forehead. “I’d like to think so. Yes, sir.”

“In twenty years here the only time I’ve ever had to pull out my pistol was to fire a few warning shots at a pack of wolves,” she says, and Dean feels some of his nerves disappear. “That don’t mean to say you won’t have to.”

“Yes, sir,” he says again.

“What if you and your boyfriend break up?” she asks next.

“Ain’t gonna happen if I stay,” he says truthfully. “But _if_ it did, I’d still want to stay here. This feels like home to me now. The mountain view sucked me in way before Cas did.”

“Felt the same way myself. Not a lot of people who come to visit Crystal Falls end up leaving, as a matter of fact. It’s kind of a running joke around here. Your daddy’s the thing of legends for being one of the only ones who walked away and never came back.”

“Dying’ll do that to ya.”

She nods. “I know you know some of us by sight now, you visit the local shops often enough when you come in, and you probably think you have a good handle on the town, small as it is. But there’s some things about this town you don’t know about yet, and as much as I’d like to tell you about them so you know what you’re getting into, I’m gonna need you to sign this here NDA first.” She slides it across the desk and slaps a pen down on top of it.

“A non-disclosure agreement?”

“You don’t have to sign it if you’re not interested in the job, but I don’t want to beat around the bush anymore. Everybody I talked to at the Kansas PD raved about you, your record’s squeaky clean, and I think you’d be a good fit here if you’re willing to give it a shot.” Dean grins wide as excitement starts to mount. He could really have this? He could really stay with Cas? “As long as you read and sign this NDA so we can be frank.”

Dean nods and turns his attention back down to the paper. It's basically a bunch of fancy mumbo jumbo saying he can’t repeat anything he sees or hears in this office or he will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law, _blah blah blah._ He’s read a thousand of these for a thousand different reasons, and though he doesn’t get why he has to sign one before becoming a cop here, he signs it.

“There’s no formal interview,” she says, getting up to walk over to an ancient photocopier. She copies his NDA, gives him the still hot sheet of paper from the printer, and stays standing next to him. “You react decently when I tell you what I’m about to tell you, and the job is yours.”

“So no pressure,” Dean says under his breath, swiping at his forehead again.

She shoots him a friendly smile and says. “I’m of the opinion that the truth is easier to see than hear, so bear with me a sec.” She walks to the back of the small office and opens the door to what he originally thought was a closet or something, but apparently is actually a back door to the station.

“We’re ready for you,” she says to somebody outside, and then Dean’s sitting up straighter in his chair and silently willing his face to remain stoic and emotionless when he hears a familiar _whoosh_ and catches sight of the tip of a golden wing.

“Gabriel?” he asks.

Gabriel stops halfway through the door and drops his jaw dramatically. _“You?”_ Then he tosses his head back and cackles. “This is _hilarious!”_ He turns to Jody and says, “Jodes! Did you know when you brought him in?”

Jody is shaking her head in what appears to be disbelief. “Know that Dean already knew about angels or that you two are on a first-name basis? _Fuck no_ to both.”

“Oh, that’s rich!” Gabriel laughs again.

“The NDA was about angels?” Dean asks Jody, still not entirely sure what’s going on here.

“I think we need to back up a minute,” Jody says, edging a hip onto her desk and taking a long drink of her coffee.

“I can’t believe I was all set to shock the shit out of another human and it was you _again!_ That’s twice in a row you stole my thunder!” Gabriel complains, his wings twitching unhappily.

Dean’s still stuck on the sheriff bringing an angel into the police department, though. “You know about angels?” he asks Jody.

“Clearly,” she says with a grin. “It’s a town secret that a lot of us have sworn to uphold and protect, but police officers especially. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the kind of things the wrong people would do if they found out about them.” Dean nods, having had the same thought himself way back when. “What I want to know is how _you_ know about them?”

“Who do ya think sucked those hickies into his neck?” Gabriel asks.

Now it’s Jody’s turn for her jaw to drop. “The boyfriend you don’t want to leave behind is an angel?”

He’s so caught off guard by all of this that he doesn’t know how to respond. He’d been prepared to keep Castiel’s secret to his dying day, and he isn’t sure if Cas would want him to out him even if Jody does know about Gabriel.

“I never said that. He did,” Dean says, deflecting back to Gabriel.

“How do you two know each other?” Jody asks Gabriel.

“He was up on the mountain and getting way too close to us at mating season, so I dropped in on him to try to scare him away -”

“And you didn’t tell me?” she exclaims loudly. “Gabriel! This is why it’s so important for us to keep in contact about stuff like this! How am I supposed to protect the garrison if I don’t know which humans know about you?”

 _“But_ he already knew about us. Barely even blinked when I dazzled him with my wings. Then before I could figure out why, another angel swooped down and lost his shit when I commented on how good he smells.”

Dean’s back goes up at that, and he feels an intense need to both defend Cas and let this little shit know he shouldn’t be saying a damn thing about his scent.

“Because you shoulda known better then _and_ now,” he says fiercely.

Gabriel raises his hands palm up. “I’m not commenting on it right now, I was just repeating the story, so hold your damn horses for a second.” When Dean bites his tongue, Gabriel continues. “Better. So since the talk of the garrison is that Castiel started wearing human clothing, built his nest big enough for two, and abandoned his cave, I’d bet my flight feathers that the hickies on his neck are from the little black sheep.”

“At least he’s full grown,” Dean says childishly, getting an indignant snort of laughter from Gabriel.

“Oh, I’ll show you _exactly_ how full-grown I am,” Gabriel says, popping the button on his fly.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Jody interrupts, knocking his hand away. “How many times do I have to tell you to keep it your damn pants, Gabe?”

“He started it!” Gabriel says, pointing at Dean.

“Both of you shut up,” she commands. “Dean, you know about angels?”

“Yes,” he says curtly.

“And you haven’t told anybody?”

“No, and I never will,” he replies.

“Is your boyfriend an angel?” she asks again.

He snaps his mouth shut on the _none of your business_ that wants to come out and takes a calming breath. “Unless things have changed in the last year, I’m pretty sure asking about my sexual orientation and marital status in a job interview is not only inappropriate, but illegal. Sir,” he adds at the end.

Jody’s eyes flash with anger and he's sure he just blew it, but she nods. “You’re right. It’s none of my business. I will say that _if_ you were in a committed relationship with an angel, it would ease my mind some knowing that you would never do anything to put him in any kind of danger.”

Not willing to be led into a trap, Dean nods but remains silent.

“Now, Gabriel is what I like to consider the angel to human liaison. We work together to make sure his people have everything they need, aren’t in any danger, and can deal with any humans who might accidentally get a peek at one of them.” Dean nods again, more easily this time. “Is this animosity between the two of you going to be a problem moving forward?”

“Yeah, Dean? Is it going to be a problem?” Gabriel says, batting the tips of his wings like eyelashes.

“As long as he can be respectful to me and my ma-” He stumbles midway through the sentence, shocked stupid that he was about to call Cas his _mate._ He recovers quickly (even though he doesn’t miss the glee all over Gabriel’s stupid face) and says, “-man, then no.”

Jody slides her gaze over to Gabriel. “I have a feeling you know more of what he means than I do. So, is that doable?”

“As long as he gets the stick out of his ass and can take a joke, then yeah.”

Dean pins him with a glare. “I don’t even blame Cas for ripping your feathers out.”

Gabriel hoots with laughter. “I like him,” he says to Jody, reminding Dean of how he said the same thing to Cas after he stood up for him the last time they met. “I can work with him.”

Jody drags a hand through her hair as she exhales slowly. “Of all the reactions I was preparing myself for, you two already knowing each other definitely wasn’t one of them,” she confesses. “I still think you’re the right guy for the job, Dean.” She opens her desk and pulls out a file folder with the Crystal Falls Police Department crest on the front of it and big, bold letters that say  _Employment Agreement._ She hands it to him and says, “Read this over. It spells out your starting salary and all that fun stuff. If it’s agreeable to you, and you can pass your mental and physical evaluations, you’ve got the job.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I know you’ve got another few weeks before you were supposed to start back in Kansas, so there’s no rush. Get your ducks in a row, read over the employment agreement. Enjoy your last few weeks of vacation, and then we can talk about a start date if that’s what you decide to do. No rush on my end.”

“Sounds awesome,” Dean says honestly. “Thanks, Sheriff. I really appreciate all of this.” Jody gets to her feet, so Dean takes that as his cue to do the same. He offers his hand for a handshake, which he gets along with a bright smile, then looks over to where Gabriel’s standing with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Don’t be a stranger now,” Gabriel says, waving the ends of his fingers in a playful wave.

Dean rolls his eyes as he pulls open the door. “See you around, chicken wings,” he says over his shoulder, and he’s laughing at the beginning of an insulted reply when the door closes behind him.

He’s going to have to look at the agreement, but as long as it offers him enough money to live off of, it looks like he just landed himself a job that’s going to allow him to stay with Cas for as long as he’ll have him. Maybe forever. He swings into the pizza place and grabs them a few celebratory pizzas to bring home, and Cas is right there waiting for him when he pulls Baby into the driveway a little while later.

He gets out of the car and Cas takes the boxes, watching him carefully, and then leans in to scent him. “You smell incredibly happy,” he breathes, drawing in another big breath. “But there’s something...” He inhales again and then goes almost scarily still. His voice has dropped all of the warmth it usually has when he addresses him again. “Why do you smell like another angel?”

“Relax,” Dean says calmly. “It was Gabriel, and I’m gonna tell you all about it as soon as we get inside.” Castiel has only relaxed marginally. “I love _you,_ Cas. I didn’t know he’d be there or I would’ve told you.”

Cas is still watching him closely, but nods and starts towards the house. “Thank you for bringing pizza home.”

“It’s kinda celebratory,” Dean says, following him into the house and grabbing himself a beer from the fridge.

“What are we celebrating?” Castiel asks curiously. He sets the pizza boxes on the table and pulls them each a plate down from the cupboard.

“This,” Dean says, putting the folder on the table between their plates.

Cas frowns at it, his lips moving as he tries to sound it out. “These words are too big. What does it say?”

“Employment agreement,” Dean says. “The town sheriff offered me a job here.”

Castiel’s eyes go wide with shock and then hope, his wings starting to puff up. “You could work here instead of Kansas?”

“I haven’t read over how much money they’re offering me yet, but yeah,” he beams. “I wouldn’t have to leave, Cas. I could stay here with you.”

Castiel’s eyes are glistening, and his voice breaks when he asks, “You could s-stay?”

Dean’s smile must be enough of an answer because he doesn’t even get a word out before he has his arms full of emotional, happy angel. Castiel is wrapped around him as tightly as he can bear. His arms around his neck, his wings surrounding him from neck to ankle, and Dean responds just as enthusiastically by grabbing him around the waist and squeezing with everything he’s got. His own eyes start to prickle with emotion and he tucks his face down into the crook of Castiel’s neck, breathing in the soothing scent of wood shavings and fresh air. Castiel’s hand moves up to stroke down his neck and his next breath comes out shaky. Cas holds him even tighter, the two of them just basking in the relief they feel at not having to live apart.

“I’ve never been so happy,” Castiel says, his voice thick with emotion.

“I know,” Dean breathes. “Me too.”

Cas backs away, his hands still hooked around the back of his neck. “What does Gabriel have to do with this?”

“The sheriff, Jody, she knows about angels, Cas. Gabriel’s been working with her to make sure she deals with anybody who finds out about you. To keep you safe.”

Cas blinks with confusion. “A human knows about us?”

Dean gestures for Cas to take a seat at the table and flips open the top box. “Kinda sounded like more than just her.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know,” Dean agrees. “It’s crazy. I didn’t even know what to say. Gabe kinda told her that we were together, and she asked if my boyfriend was an angel and I just froze up. Didn’t know if admitting to it would put you in any kinda danger.”

“Or you,” Cas says. “Technically we’re an inter-species relationship. I don’t know how other humans might feel about that.”

“Well, even though I never came right out and said it, it was pretty clear by other stuff that was said and the hickies all over my neck that we were a thing, and she didn’t seem like she was about to arrest me or chase me outta town or anything.”

“I wonder if Gabriel working with Jody is what allows him to provide the garrison with the things that we need when we ask him,” Castiel says.

“I kinda got that impression, yeah.”

“I’m still not completely understanding the whole story. How did you get this job offer?”

Dean swallows down his bite of pizza and says, “Sounds like I need to go back to the beginning.” Which he does. Over pizza, he explains how it all happened and goes over the non-interview as best as he can, then the two of them open up the employment agreement and Dean reads it aloud so he and Cas can make this decision together.

Despite the warning about the salary Jody gave him, the amount in the contract is nothing to laugh at. He does some quick math on the back of one of the pages, listing his current monthly expenses, and discovers pretty quickly that it’s more than enough to live on, and that’s including the property taxes and utility bills he’s paying for the house in Kansas he doesn’t even use. Cas is watching him nervously, his feathers twitching as Dean does the math he knows he can’t read.

Dean smiles up at him and meets his eyes. “It’s not as much as I was making in Kansas, but it’s enough, Cas. And I’ll get twice as much as this once Jody retires and I’m the sheriff.”

“You can stay?” Castiel asks.

“I can stay,” Dean answers.

“In this cabin with me? All the time?”

Dean’s spirits sink just as fast as they rose. “Still don’t know about the winter,” he admits. “The roads out here just aren’t driveable when the snow falls.”

“You know I don’t know much about how your money works, but you mentioned before about your house in Kansas being paid in full. Can you trade that house for one here? Closer to the town so you wouldn’t have to worry about these roads?”

Trading isn’t the right word, but he’d sell his house in Kansas for sure, which means he’d have more than enough to buy something small in town. Because it’s such a small place, the houses aren’t big and he’s pretty damn sure they won’t be anywhere close to how much he knows his house will go for. “Yeah,” he nods. “I can sell my house in Kansas and buy something here. Maybe see if I can find something private so you could fly to it. Hell, if people in town know angels exist, we might not even have to try and hide you.”

“I still have a hard time believing that, but I suppose I’m going to have to go talk to Gabriel about this at some point to find out how much they know.” He covers Dean’s hand with his. “I like living here and I feel like this cabin is my home now, but if you find something you like better that gives you access to your car all year, I would live with you in town if we could.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, pleased by the thought.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed just how much you are giving up to be with me,” he says softly. “All I want is be with you in return, and whatever I’m able to do to make that happen, I want to do.”

“I love you so damn much,” Dean confesses. “You’re worth every single thing I’ll ever have to give up ‘cause you give me so much more.”

Cas gets up out of his seat only to walk over to straddle Dean’s lap. Cas kisses him tenderly but firmly, with so much emotion poured into their kiss that he knows Cas returns every bit of love he has for him. When Cas pulls away, he caresses his cheek with his warm palm, his thumb tracing his cheek bone. “I know this is a lot to ask, but when all of this settled - after you have accepted this job, sold your house in Kansas and found us a new home - would you ever consider being my bond mate? Committing to me and only me for the rest of our lives?”

The flood of affection he feels towards Cas in this moment is staggering. “Yeah,” he breathes. Seeing a smile spreading quickly on Castiel’s face has him feeling confident and more sure than ever. “Yeah, I’d consider the hell out of it, Cas.”

“Good,” Cas whispers, and then, with Castiel’s fingers slipping into his hair and his body pressing him back into the chair as he seals their lips together once more, he completely loses himself in a kiss so perfect he knows he’ll remember it for as long as he lives.

It’s a chick flick moment if there ever was one, right until a loud _crack_ startles them apart. An instant later, the back breaks off of the old wooden chair, and Dean topples back with a yelp, thankfully falling onto a soft pillow of wings with Castiel still straddling him and his blue eyes as wide as saucers.

Dean barely stifles his laughter long enough to say, “This chair’s had a rough few months, huh?” And once Cas realizes this is the same chair he’s knocked over several times since they’ve met, the two of them dissolve into laughter in a tangle of limbs and wings on the hard wooden floor, more happy and in love in this single moment than most people will be in an entire lifetime.


	20. Chapter 20

Dean can feel Castiel’s eyes on him as he straightens the knot of his tie on his now broken-in deputy uniform. He glances up into the mirror and finds Castiel still lounged back in their nest, eyes trained on him as he suspected, and completely glorious in his nakedness with his wings spread out behind him.

Even after almost a year together and the toe curling orgasm Cas had coaxed out of him less than a half hour ago, he feels desire spike low in his stomach just from seeing Cas looking at him this way.

“Sorta feelin’ like a piece of meat over here,” Dean says with a cocky grin.

“That’s probably because I will never get used to the way your ass looks in those pants, Deputy,” Cas says, making Dean shake his head a little. Unfortunately, Castiel's voice is still rough from him shoving his cock down his throat not so long ago and _deputy_ is just as hot as _officer_ when Cas says it like that, so it also causes him to get a little warm under his collar.

“You sure you’re okay for me to go in today?” Dean asks, walking towards him to give his face and eyes a good look to make sure he’s not lying.

“Yes,” Cas chuckles, his eyes dancing with his laughter. “It’s not mating season anymore. The lingering effects are still there and I’d still like you pinned to the bed covered in my cum, but I’ll be fine until you get back. I’ll do some baking to keep me busy today.”

Could he be more perfect? Dean drops to his knees on the nest and catches his lips in a quick kiss. “You promise -”

Cas cuts him off with a finger held to his lips. “I will not leave without saying goodbye if it starts snowing.” His voice is soft but firm. “I promise. And I will promise you every day until you see it isn’t going to happen.”

Dean nods, feeling more secure now but with sadness still lingering. “I hate going to work knowing we’ve only got a little bit of time left.”

“We have forever, beloved,” Cas reassures him, his alula feathers stroking his face. “It’s only one season. A few months. And this time we already know we can make it, that we’ll still love each other when I come back, and now I have our home waiting for me, too. Our nest. Our life together. And you in this uniform,” he adds, tugging him in by his tie for one more kiss.

Dean can’t help but smile against his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you. Now get out of here before I convince you to come back to bed and get you fired.”

Because he knows just how easy that would be for Cas to do lying in their nest looking way more enticing than should be allowed, he gets back to his feet. “I’ll be back at six.”

“I’ll be watching the clock,” Cas says, which makes him smile.

Because they’ve been working so hard on his numbers, telling time, and recognizing enough words that Cas can puzzle his way through most day-to-day things, Dean feels pride burst within him. Being able to text and call when Cas migrates has been a huge inspiration for both of them, and Cas had caught on amazingly fast. Not only is he sexy as fuck, he’s as smart as a whip, and just when Dean thinks it’s impossible to love him more, they spend another new day together and he’s proven wrong over again.

It’s less than two weeks after mating season has ended when the first snow falls, and though Cas kept telling him he could tell it was coming soon, it still takes them both by surprise. At least this time, it’s mid-day when the flakes make their appearance, and so they have the afternoon and evening to spend wrapped up in one another until it gets dark enough to fly. They spend the time holding each other close and wringing more orgasms out of one another than should be possible for a couple of men pushing forty. But most importantly, they repeat their love for one another, renew their commitment, and Cas gets one final preening so his wings will be in good shape for as long as possible.

Even with the notice they had and the hours they spent lavishing love onto one another, and even after how much preparation they’ve done to make this migration easier for them both than the last one had been, it’s still a special kind of hell to watch Cas fly away and know he won’t be in his wings again for a couple of months.

They are prepared though, and yeah, there are still tears that night before he falls asleep when their nest feels way too big for just him, but it’s only three days before Cas calls for the first time, and even just hearing his voice puts him at ease in a way he can’t explain.

“God it’s good to hear your voice,” he tells him.

“I’m amazed at the reaction myself,” Cas agrees. “My wings have settled for the first time since I left. I already miss you so much.”

“I miss you, too, hon. How are the dicks with wings treating you?” he asks, worried about his well-being.

“The same as always, but for whatever reason, their lack of interest in whether I live or die isn’t affecting me the way it usually does.”

“Anytime you feel down, you call me, okay? Night or day, I’m here, Cas.”

“I love you,” Cas says softly.

“I love you, too.”

“How are you holding up?”

Dean scoffs in self deprecation, embarrassed that he even has to ask. “Cried more in the last three days than in the last six months, but I’m still dragging my ass to work even though I’m sleeping like shit. Jody keeps telling me I look like the walking dead.”

“I wish I was there to hold you so you could sleep better, but work will be good to keep you busy,” Cas says quietly. “I’ll call you again soon, Dean. I can’t talk any longer right now because I seem to have attracted a bit of a crowd.”

Dean snorts. “Really?”

“I’m not sure anybody here knows what I’m doing. They probably think I’m talking to myself.”

“You should tell me that you can’t wait to suck my dick again and really get a reaction out of them,” Dean suggests.

Like he hoped, Cas bursts out laughing. “You’re the worst. I miss you terribly.”

“Miss you,” Dean answers, smiling for the first time in days. “Talk soon, okay?”

“Promise. I love you, Dean.”

“Love you, too, angel.”

He has a few loose ends to tie up in Kansas, but was waiting for Cas to go so he didn’t have to take a whole weekend away from him. Plus, he has some surprises in mind for when Cas gets back. So with Jody’s permission, he takes off at noon on a Friday and heads to what used to be home. He stays with Jo that night, and on Saturday he takes care of what he needed to do, and though he’s more than a little sore and all kinds of tired by the time he gets back to their house late on Saturday, he’s home and he sleeps a hundred times better in their nest than he did in Jo’s spare room.

It isn’t easy living apart from the man he loves, but with work, feeling like he’s part of a community again, and the weekly phone calls from Cas, the winter passes much faster than it did last year. When the weather consistently starts warming up, he starts asking Cas if he knows when he can come back. Cas keeps telling him “soon” and that he’ll tell him the moment he knows for sure, but soon isn’t anywhere close to soon enough.

It’s the second Thursday in March when Dean’s woken up to a familiar body plastering itself to his and warm lips brushing the back of his neck.

“Cas,” he sighs happily.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says quietly, lifting him so he can get his wing beneath his shoulders. Dean rolls over so he can pull him into his arms too, eyes filling with tears when Cas buries his nose in his neck. “You smell like home.”

“I missed you so much,” he whispers, his voice still rough from sleep. Then his brain catches up with what’s happening, and he mumbles, “You dirty liar.”

“I know,” Cas says, not sounding the least bit sorry. “I wanted to surprise you with my return, so even though I was most of the way here when we spoke last I didn’t tell you. Don’t be mad at me.”

“Never,” Dean promises. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Sleep now, my love. We’ll catch up in the morning, okay?”

Bone tired now that he has the one thing that’s been missing in his life and in his nest for the last few months, Dean hums his okay and falls into a deep and restful sleep with his fingers curled in Castiel’s wings.

He wakes up to the warm hands he knows so well pushing their way up the front of his shirt and Cas mouthing over his pulse point on his throat. Dean shifts back the tiniest little bit, and _oh, fuck yes,_ there’s the dick he loves more than any other, hard and waiting for him.

“I missed you,” Castiel pants against his skin. “I need you, Dean.”

“Touch me,” he begs him.

They don’t even get their clothes off. His pajama pants get pushed down his knees, Cas slicks himself up and slides between his thighs, takes Dean’s cock into his slippery palm, and an embarrassingly fast few minutes later, they’re both coming all over each other. Castiel rubs his cum into Dean’s skin between his legs as Dean’s trying to remember how to open his eyes, and he feels a deep, sated satisfaction all the way down to his soul.

“Gimme an hour and we can do that again the right way,” Dean slurs.

“You have yourself a deal,” Castiel says, reaching beside their nest to find a towel to clean them up. “I’m dying for a shower.”

“Soon as I can feel my feet.”

Castiel grabs a hold of his shoulder and rolls him over until he’s on his back. His eyes finally open, and Cas is gazing down at him with so much love in his eyes and his hair windswept in the sexiest way possible that it makes his heart thunder in his chest.

“I love you,” Cas tells him, leaning down to finally kiss him.

Their lips meeting for the first time in so long has proverbial fireworks exploding behind his eyelids, and he melts into him, into the feeling of love and home and forever, gently pushing his fingers through his tangled wings. He makes a displeased sound in his throat and breaks their kiss. “Gotta help you with those.”

“I’d love that,” Cas says, kissing him again. “I have to tell you something first, though.”

Dean feels a tiny crack in the all-encompassing happiness he’d been so filled with a moment ago. “Good something or bad something?”

“Good something,” Castiel smiles happily.

Feeling his emotions even out again, he asks, “Can we have coffee first?”

“Outside?” Cas checks.

“Yeah. Just gotta pee.”

“I’ll start the coffee.”

So a few minutes later, Dean’s bundled up, and seeing as his coffee mug is missing from its spot, he goes to find Cas and his coffee. Cas passes him his mug after another quick kiss and they sit in a comfortable silence in the swing they bought for the deck at their new house. They don’t have the same clear view of the mountain here they have at their cabin, but he can still see the highest mountain peak over the trees, so he angles his head up and looks his fill before drops his gaze to the forest.

He knows Cas is just letting him get his first cup down before they talk and he loves him more for it. He is confused about why he doesn’t have Castiel’s wing tucked behind his back where it should be, but he remembers how Cas needed some time before he was really comfortable with letting him touch them the last time he came back and doesn’t say anything about it. He knows they’ll get there.

Cas must have been keeping a close eye on him, because when he swallows his last mouthful of coffee, he says, “You haven’t aged a day, Dean. Still as unbelievably beautiful as you were the day I left.”

“That’s a lie, but I’ll take it,” Dean smiles. It’s weird that Cas being over complementary and cheesy as hell is their normal, but the peace that settles into him at the comment proves that it is.

“How long do we have until you go to work?”

“You had suspiciously good timing. I’m off today and tomorrow,” Dean answers, cocking an intrigued eyebrow.

“Small miracles,” Cas responds, lips twitching. He knows he must have found out his work schedule from either Gabe or Jody. “Would you like to go back inside to talk?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Can we go back in the nest? I want to make it smell like both of us again.”

“Do you wanna shower first?” he offers.

“No, after,” Cas says, avoiding his gaze.

It’s with some confusion that he strips back down to his pajama pants and loose t-shirt, but he meets Cas in their nest. Once again, his wings are angled away from him and he tries not to be insulted by it.

“What’s up, Cas?”

“Do you remember when we talked about pair bonds and how they’re formed?” Cas asks him, his tone of voice sounding purposely careful.

“Yeah, of course. You said you weren’t ready to talk about it so I didn’t push.”

“To be honest with you, at the time, it was because I was doubtful it would ever really happen for us. It’s almost unheard of for humans and angels to truly form a pair bond. I should have known better though,” he says, smiling tentatively. “You have always surpassed my expectations in every way possible.” When Dean looks at him curiously, not fully getting what he’s talking about, Cas says, “Do you recall when I asked you if you’d consider being my mate after everything settled down?” Dean nods, slowly, anticipation starting to build inside of him. “I know this is really big to talk about after I just got back, but have you given it any thought since then?”

“Only every day,” Dean answers honestly. “I want it, Cas. Want you forever. What do I have to do make it happen?”

“Nothing. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You already did it,” he says, lifting a wing to fall over them both. At first, he doesn’t understand the bright smile on Castiel’s face, but then he sees them. Castiel’s wings aren’t just pure black anymore. Some of his feathers have small, light brown specks on the tips, almost like paint splatter.

“Cas,” he breathes in awe. As Cas moves them around, the natural light streaming in through their window catches the specks and they glint gold in the sun. “They’re beautiful. I loved them before, but damn. It’s like they’re decorated for a night out or something, and they’re - they’re _awesome.”_ But he still doesn’t understand. “How did this happen? Why are they like this?”

“Like I said, you did it,” Cas repeats softly, spreading his alulae for Dean to slot his fingers through to get a closer look. “This is how angels know if a pair bond has formed. Our wings compliment one another’s. There’s no denying it, no ignoring it, no faking it. You may not have wings, but somehow, I got your markings anyway. I think they’re meant to emulate your freckles, Dean.”

Dean looks back down at his feathers and a laugh bubbles out of him. They _do_ look like freckles. “How? How is this possible?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel says, smiling so big he can see his gums. “As I lost feathers when I was away they grew back in like this. I talked to Gabriel and he was certain they would all follow suit,” he explains. “He was baffled by my wings being so attuned to a human, but I wasn’t. I always thought they knew we belonged together before I did.” Dean is so overwhelmed with all of this, he doesn’t know what to say. So he kisses Castiel’s feathers and keeps stroking them from base to tip. “All I know for certain is that I am yours, Dean Winchester, forever and always, no matter what. You’re my mate. And -” Then he slides his hand into his pants pocket and opens it, palm up, to reveal a ring.

[A wooden ring.](https://i.imgur.com/2qjq002.jpg)

“I’m proposing marriage,” he says nervously. Dean’s soft smile must encourage him, because his voice picks up strength and surety as he continues. “Your way and my way, the same way we’ve been living and falling in love with each other since we met. Meet me in the middle again. Say you’ll accept me as your mate and I promise you with everything that I am that I will make you happier for nine months out of every year than anybody else would be able to make you all twelve. Please, Dean. Be my bond mate.”

“Fuck yes, Cas,” Dean says, surging forwards to kiss him soundly.

Cas breaks their kiss with a breathless, “Really?”

 _“Yes,”_ Dean says again, enthusiastically. He leans in to place another smacking kiss on his lips. “I love you. I’m always gonna love you. Your _wings_ know that I love you and you made me a goddamn ring?” Cas flushes but nods, glancing down at the ring still held in his hand. “How could I ever say no to you? You’re my mate and I’m yours, Cas. Always and forever.”

Castiel’s eyes, always so blue, turn liquid and then brim with tears. “I’m - I’m so happy!” he gasps.

Dean leans in to kiss him again, his own happiness bubbling over into laughter. “Gimme the ring, baby.”

Castiel sniffles, valiantly trying to keep it together, and takes Dean’s hand into his. “I’m certain this will fit, but if not, I’ll just make another one,” he says.

Dean gets a better look at the ring as it’s slid onto his finger, and of course Cas is right, it fits like a glove. It looks absolutely flawless and he’s baffled at how Cas could have done this when he knows he didn’t have any of his big tools. Both pairs of eyes go from looking at the way the dark, rich wood looks against Dean’s tanned skin to meeting between them. “This is perfect, Cas. How’d you make it?”

“Wood bending,” Castiel answers. “It’s an old technique used to build canoes. This is made from walnut, polished with my wing oil to fortify it and sealed with beeswax. Do you like it? Is this what an engagement ring typically looks like?”

“I love it,” Dean says honestly. “It’s perfect. Way better than what most people have. How did you get that little design on there?”

“I carved it by hand,” Castiel says, his wings fluffing up with pride. “It’s meant to match your bracelet.”

Looking at it more closely, Dean can see that it’s a tiny braided pattern that’s carved into the wood. The detail is astounding. “I can’t believe you did this. It’s perfect, Cas.”

“I’m so pleased you like it. I’ve never worked on anything so important before.”

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” Cas smiles wide at the praise and he can hardly believe this time yesterday he missed him so badly it was like a hole inside of him, and now he has him back and they’re _mates._ “I’m the luckiest son of a bitch alive. I don’t deserve you, or this,” he says gesturing to his ring, “but you’re stuck with me now,” he grins.

“I would have stayed with you even if the pair bond hadn’t formed,” Castiel says seriously. “I hope you know that.”

“You made it pretty clear when you asked me to consider it,” Dean tells him. “I knew.”

Cas cups his face and Dean’s eyes close in anticipation. He gets what he was hoping for when Castiel’s lips slot between his, pressing soft and sweet a dozen times before he finally licks his way inside. Dean opens for him eagerly, tasting a hint of coffee but even better than that, the signature flavor of Cas. Of his mate. Dean’s fingers curl into his hair, pulling him down on top of him to deepen the kiss even further, making a happy sound when he feels Castiel’s weight pressing him down into the mattress. He opens his legs in invitation and guides Cas between them, shifting around until he can feel their semis lining up. Cas breaks away from his lips to mouth across his jaw and over to his neck, and Dean keens when he feels Cas start to work on a hickey.

“Shit,” he curses, arousal flooding through his veins just from the promise of being marked by him. “Not - not there, baby. Work.”

One warm hand snakes down his chest and back up his shirt. “Here, then.”

Dean freezes as he remembers. “Hang on a sec,” he says, clearing his throat and trying to slow the mad rush his blood is making down to his dick. “I uh, have to tell you something, too.”

Castiel pauses. His shoulders are already heaving with his breaths, his lips are shiny from their combined spit, and Dean’s cock twitches at the sight of him, as if he needs a reminder that he was about to get off again and voluntarily stopped it.

“A good something or bad something?” Cas asks, echoing his words from earlier.

“Good something, I hope.” He shuffles back a little bit so he’s sitting up some (and so that Castiel’s quickly growing erection doesn’t distract him any more) and says, “I remembered what you said before about how mates’ wings compliment each other’s,” he admits. “Before you just told me today, I mean. And I know I don’t have wings, or didn’t, I guess, but I still wanted you to have that with me. So I kinda did a thing.”

Cas looks at him curiously. “What did you do?”

“It’s not totally finished yet, and I guess I gotta add some freckles to them now, but uh…” Then Dean takes a deep breath and pulls his shirt up over his head to reveal [the tattoo he got in Kansas.](https://i.imgur.com/PBlqr6w.jpg) Tattoo sleeve is really more accurate, as crazy as that sounds. It’s not the full length of his arm, but it starts on his shoulder, goes down to the bottom of his shoulder blade, and spreads across his arm to his elbow.

 _“Dean,”_ Castiel gasps, a hand darting out so he can trace a finger over each individual feather. “They look - they look like _my wings.”_

“I showed the artist a picture of your wings,” Dean confesses. “Told him it was a Photoshop thing and he bought it. They’re supposed to look just like yours.”

“You look breathtaking,” Castiel says, and Dean’s inclined to believe him considering the tone of his voice. Dean smirks and purposely rotates his shoulder, letting Cas watch the way it makes the feathers look like they’re moving, too. “Oh, Dean,” he gasps again. “You have _wings.”_

“Wing, technically. I could only stand to get one inked at a time. Hurt like a bitch and took all damn day,” he says with a bit of a laugh. “I’ll get the other one done, though. And I’ll get freckles added to them so they’re like yours.” Cas is nodding absently, still tracing over each feather on his arm. “Cas, babe, do you like it?”

Cas lets out a breath in a quick huff. _“Like it?”_ he repeats incredulously. “Dean, you know I thought you were gorgeous before so I hope you don’t take offence to me saying this, but I have quite literally never been more attracted to you than I am right now.”

Dean’s lips turn up into a smile. “Yeah?”

“You’re my mate and you have my wings inked into your skin,” Cas says quietly, disbelief plain as day in his voice. “I was more than happy with only my wings showing our pair bond but then you went and did this and it’s everything I didn’t even know I wanted, Dean. Angels everywhere would know by looking at us. We’re mates. I have a mate.”

“So do I,” Dean says, touched by Cas being so into this. “I hoped it would make you this happy but I didn’t really know how you’d react.”

“You consistently make me happier than I thought I could ever be.”

“I love you, Cas,” Dean sighs. “All I’ve ever wanted is to make you happy.”

Cas seems ready to pick up where they left off a few minutes ago, because he crawls into his lap, looking every bit like the lithe, wild animal he is, and deliberately lowers himself down until Dean’s still mostly hard cock is nestled against his cleft. Both of their jaws become unhinged at the almost forgotten sensation, but he pants, “I love you, too, Dean,” before he captures his lips in a filthy kiss that immediately has his hands clamping down on Castiel’s hips and urging him to grind down on him. Cas obliges, rotating his hips in a slow circle that makes Dean’s head thump back against the side of the nest.

“Dean,” Castiel breathes, diving onto his neck to feast on the exposed line of his throat.

“Cas,” he answers mindlessly. His lips are like fire on his skin, his hips are sharp and hard and it’s always been so grounding the way they fit just right in his palms. He missed Cas, missed the way they go together, the way he makes him feel.

Castiel’s hands slide along the curve of his lower back, and with an ease that still steals his breath after all this time, Cas hauls him up and tugs him down until he’s flat on his back again in the center of the nest and Cas is back between his legs. He wraps his legs around his waist as Castiel’s hand slots their cocks together, and then Cas rubs over them both teasingly while his mouth finds his collarbone. Dean gasps as Cas starts sucking a mark into his skin and their hips begin to roll together.

Wanting to give as good as he’s getting, his hands move over and through his wings where he can, eating up every sound of pleasure he derives from Cas, and swallowing down the scent of wood shavings and fresh air as it begins to build in the air. The scent is so innately connected to sex for the both of them now he isn’t the least bit surprised when it’s only a few short minutes before Cas starts pulling both of their pants off. Once they’re fully naked, though, Cas pauses and pushes himself up to his hands.

Dean’s breathing hard, his cock is already aching for more, and he can’t even begin to think what would make Cas stop again, but he’s not moving at all anymore, and in fact, he’s blinking down at him with a perplexed expression on his face.

“We’re mates,” Cas says, as if he’s just come to this conclusion all over again.

“Yeah,” Dean answers, sufficiently distracted by running his hands slowly over Cas’s shoulders and down to his biceps where they’re currently bulging from holding his weight up. Did he get hotter since he left? Were his biceps always this chiseled, his chest this _firm?_ He kinda wants to bite him a little, just sink his teeth right into his pec and...

“We can mate.”

Those words get his full attention and desire shoots so fast between his legs he’s surprised he doesn’t come then and there. “You - you want to -?”

Castiel nods enthusiastically. “We’re bonded. There’s no reason to wait anymore unless you -”  
“I don’t wanna wait,” Dean interrupts him. “Not another _second._ I’ve been trying not to think about this for so damn long, Cas,” he confesses. “You don’t even know how bad I want you.”

Castiel bites down on his lower lip and his wings begin to twitch. “You know I’ve never...”

Dean swallows down the rush _to take_ and instead runs his fingers up and into his hair, stroking soothingly. “We don’t have to right now if you don’t want to yet.”

Castiel shoots him a sideways smile. “Perhaps I haven’t been vocal enough about how difficult it’s been to resist in the past. I want to. I _have_ wanted to for a very long time. I’m just... worried it won’t live up to your expectations,” he says quietly, his wings drooping slightly. “I have no illusions that I’d even have a chance at being the best sex you’ve ever had my first time, but I don’t want to disappoint you, either.”

“Cas, babe,” Dean says with a gentle smile. “You know my body better than anybody ever has. You know exactly how to touch me to make me lose my freaking mind. You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, I’ve had nothing but my hand for the last three months, and I’m so in love with you I can’t even think straight most of the time. It’s impossible for our first time not to be awesome.”

Cas searches his eyes for the truth and seems to take him at his word. “Will you tell me how to bring you the most pleasure?”

“You’re not gonna need my help, angel, but if you do, I got you, okay? Not like I’m shy,” he reminds him with what he hopes is an enticing wink.

Cas nods and his eyes warm, but when they resume kissing, his wings still won’t settle. He tries patting through them, tries jacking him off to distract him, but he’s not having any luck. He’s obviously nervous, and neither of them are going to enjoy themselves or the experience that they’ve been saving for so long if he can’t relax. There’s a few ways he knows for sure that always turns Cas into a boneless heap, but he goes for the easiest first, and rolls them over until Cas is under him.

Cas looks at him questioningly, but Dean says, “Flip over for me, angel,” and he goes without complaint.

Dean straddles his lower back, careful not to kneel on his wings, and slides his hands up his muscular back until he finds his oil glands. He _barely_ brushes over them with his fingertips, but still, Cas arches beneath him and makes a sound full of want. Dean smirks at his success; nothing makes his angel hornier than his oil glands.

As the sweet smell of apple trees wafts into his nostrils, he breathes in deep, drinking in the scent of his wing oil. It smells even better than he remembers. “Smell so good, angel,” he says, feeling heat build inside of him when the warm liquid coats his fingers as he stimulates the glands. It always gets him weirdly turned on to touch Cas here, to feel him get more and more wet for him the more he touches him, and to hear the sounds he can only ever wring out of him like this. He doesn’t even bother pretending he’s going to groom his wings right now, this is purely foreplay, and he takes what he needs by slicking up his own cock with Castiel’s oil so he can rut more easily against his mate’s soft skin while he works on bringing him to the brink.

“Dean,” Castiel groans. “I missed you. I missed the smell of you coated in my oil.”

“I missed the smell of your oil. How wet you get for me,” Dean tells him, twisting his fingers around his glands and drawing a needy sound from him. Another stronger tendril of tart apple makes its way into senses and he feels his mouth fill with saliva. His eyes slip closed as the desire to taste him sinks in. He’s had Castiel’s oil in his mouth before - using it as lube makes that almost impossible to avoid - and he’s always enjoyed it. For some reason, he’s never thought to go right to the source until now, and he smirks wickedly when he thinks about how Cas might react.

So he parts his wings with his hands, exposing his glands and inhaling deeply as a new waft of apple hits him. Not sure how to ask for permission but still wanting Cas to know what he’s up to, he starts a slow trail of open-mouthed kisses up his spine, and the choked-off sound of pleasure that comes from Cas when he realizes what’s about to happen has him diving in without restraint. He points his tongue and licks over both nubs gently, not wanting to stimulate him _too_ much all at once, but a gush of liquid comes out of them anyway, so the only thing to do is to seal his mouth over them to lap it up. It smells like heaven and tastes just as good, sweet and tart and fresh and unmistakably _Cas,_ and he moans as he swirls his tongue around them in a figure eight before suckling and swallowing down another thick bead of oil.

 _“Dean!”_ Castiel calls out, his wings trying to flap. Dean grabs them with one hand and applies pressure in the right spot to lock them in place, something Cas had taught him to do so he could immobilize another angel if he ever needed to protect himself against one. He probably never thought Dean would use it to mouth at his oil glands, but now Cas is completely helpless to do anything but writhe beneath him. When he _gently_ closes his teeth around one of his soft nubs, Castiel’s body is wracked with a sob of what can only be described as pure ecstasy.

 _“Ah! Fuck!”_ Castiel shouts.

He only ever swears when he’s completely lost it, and Dean grins as he circles his other gland with his tongue. “Feel good, sweetheart?”

“D-don’t stop, _please_ don’t stop!”

Dean indulges him and sucks one nub at a time into his mouth, plucking at them the same way he would with nipples and dutifully drinking down the liquid that fills his mouth. He can feel his chin and upper lip messy with it, but Cas is still making the sexiest fucking sounds beneath him and if anybody deserves to get off this good it’s him, so he keeps going until Cas changes his tune entirely.

 _“Oh!_ Dean! Dean, stop, I’m g-going to - I’m going to -”

Dean didn’t notice the way they were working together, with him thrusting against Castiel’s hip and Castiel thrusting into the bed beneath him until he stops and Cas is still moving. He stills him by gripping onto his hips. “Shit,” he pants, a hell of a lot closer to the edge than he realized he was. “Why was that so -”

But he’s cut off by Cas flipping them over once again. His blue eyes drop to where Dean’s mouth is smeared with his oil and he whimpers before his mouth covers his, his tongue pressing forwards and entering his mouth, curling around his sinfully, sucking on the tip and groaning all over again. “You are _covered_ in my scent,” he says, his voice rough with grit. “You’re glistening with my oil.”

Dean arches a brow cockily and licks his lips. “I can still taste you.”

Cas kisses him again, their lips crashing together with teeth clacking and Cas unable to hold in another whine. “You smell like _mate,_ Dean. Like mine. I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you right now.”

“So take me,” he says, using the sexy lilt to his voice he knows drives Cas crazy.

“I love you so much,” Castiel says, his expression softening with the truth of his words. It cools the fire burning inside of him down to simmering coals. “I’m so glad my first time is going to be with you.” Dean feels his heart melt in his chest, and when Cas leans down to bring their lips together tenderly, he takes the chance the heavy moment provides him with to let this soak in. Their first time together. The last time either of them will ever have a first time, come to think of it, but instead of the cliched panic one might expect that realization to bring, he feels nothing but deep in his bones _right_ that Cas is his last while he’s his first.

“Will you turn over for me, my love?” Castiel asks him once they’ve broken apart.

Dean knows exactly what’s coming, and he rolls over eagerly, grabbing a pillow to stuff under his hips so his ass is lifted up the way Cas likes it. He feels one thick finger slick with what he knows is Castiel’s oil slide along the crack of his ass and already squeezes his eyes closed as anticipation rushes through him. It’s been _so long_ since Cas has done this and he’s all kinds of desperate for it.

Cas is in no rush though, because he circles his rim several times, making his nerve endings come to life with a jolt each time he passes over them. He tries not to let it show how badly he wants it, but when it’s been what feels like ten minutes and Cas still hasn’t breached him, his patience is waning. He sighs in frustration and says, _“Today_ would be fan-”

But apparently all Cas was waiting for was him to ask, because he doesn’t even get _fantastic_ out before he has one wide finger sliding into his center. It’s like a jolt of _more, more, more_ straight to his cock, and he mutters a quiet, _“Oh fuck,”_ before he can stop himself.

Cas is groaning too, though, so there’s a chance he didn’t hear him. “You’re so tight, sweetheart.”

“Nothin’s been in there -” He gasps as Cas pulls out to press back in. “- since you.”

“My sweet, sweet mate,” Castiel says, his free hand stroking down his back as he lowers his mouth to join in. “Waiting for me.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean curses as he feels Castiel’s hot tongue lick around his finger. He knows Cas isn’t into dipping his tongue inside of him, but the skin around is sensitive enough to make it hot as hell whenever he does this much, and Dean’s once again rocking into the pillow beneath him as Cas slowly opens him up. Just knowing that this isn’t the main event today has his blood pumping faster and hotter than normal, and when Castiel’s wings are added into the mix and his feathers start caressing his back, he actually shudders with how good it all feels.

By the time Dean’s fucking himself on three of Castiel’s fingers and a mixture of oil and saliva is dripping down his crack and behind his balls, he knows he’s only a few more brushes to the prostate away from blowing his load, so of fucking course Cas is avoiding his sweet spot like the plague, keeping his orgasm balanced on the edge of a razor blade.

Cas chuckles, sounding extremely pleased with himself and sending a shiver up his spine before his mouth follows it, leaving a hot trail of kisses up his back and over to his shoulder blade. After tracing the outline of his tattoo painstakingly thoroughly with his tongue, Cas buries his nose in the crook of his neck and licks over his pulse point. That has Dean giving over any semblance of dignity and/or restraint in favor of begging, “Cas, _please,”_ in a broken groan that sounds exactly like a grown man giving up, and then he feels Castiel’s fingers pull out of him, leaving him feeling weirdly empty without them.

He doesn’t have time to comment on it though, because the blunt head of Castiel’s cock is _there,_ hot and ready, nestled in tight against his open hole.

But Cas hesitates, kissing his neck and asking, “Dean?”

“Do it,” Dean says breathlessly. “Do it, Cas, please. Please mate me.”

Castiel’s hands cover his, his fingers slide between Dean’s, and his hot, thick length presses inside of him. Slowly but steadily he sinks into him, inch by glorious inch until he bottoms out. They both make simultaneous sounds of pleasure when they’re finally connected in every way possible, and Cas absolutely _covers_ his neck and shoulders in wet kisses while he waits for Dean’s body to get used to the intrusion.

“You feel unbelievable,” Castiel praises him, his voice tight with tension but heavy with pleasure. “So perfect, Dean. I’m the luckiest angel in the garrison.”

“You feel fucking _huge,”_ Dean groans. Then when he feels Castiel’s breathy laugh on his neck, he smiles and adds, “Love you,” turning his head towards him to ask silently for a kiss. Cas seems happy to slot their lips together, bringing his wing up to help support Dean’s head and using every little trick he knows to have him relaxing into their kiss. As his body loosens up, Cas sinks into him a teeny bit further, causing their kiss to break when they both make dual sounds of ecstasy.

Considering how many times Cas has had his fingers inside of him, he knows that’s his cue to start moving, and he doesn’t miss it. He begins slowly, only rocking into him gently at first, letting Dean try to get used to the sensation of something as wide and long as Cas moving inside of him until Dean gives him the go-ahead in the form of moaning with pleasure.

When Cas still doesn’t pick it up after that, he takes his hand still clasped by Castiel’s and presses it to his hip, using it to move them both into the pace he wants. It’s a subtle, wordless request, but again, Cas knows him so well that he alters his rhythm to start thrusting shallowly inside of him.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs happily as he feels the familiar in and out motion begin to build something inside of him. “That’s good, Cas. That’s damn good.”

Cas kisses the corner of his mouth. “You feel wondrous, Dean. We fit. We fit together so perfectly.”

Dean remembers telling him the same thing so long ago and gets a little misty over him repeating it now. “Was always s’posed to be you,” Dean answers without a shred of a lie. He believes that now.

“My mate,” Castiel breathes softly, his hand caressing his hip lovingly as he continues to rock into him. Cas kisses his cheek and moves towards his mouth once more, and knowing that he wants to keep kissing him, Dean turns his head again and meets him in a quick kiss before Cas pushes into him a little deeper and he drops his head onto his arms at the heady sensation.

That seems to entice Cas into picking things up a little bit. He thrusts in again just as deep, then pistons into him a second and third time, gradually going faster and harder. Castiel’s one hand on Dean’s hip is now setting his own fast, almost punishing rhythm, pulling him in to meet each thrust. Dean starts to move with him, the steady rhythm building and building the fire in his stomach.

Cas kisses along his shoulder, then drops his forehead to his tattoo with a sigh as he thrusts between his cheeks again and again. Castiel’s fingers are tightening on his hip and his breath’s beginning to come out heavy and hot on his skin. It’s getting _so good,_ so _maddeningly_ good, like Castiel’s harsh breathing seems to be stoking the fire inside of him. The flames are shooting through his limbs, spreading everywhere. His head’s swimming with it, cock pulsing, everything narrowed down to the thick, hot length pumping in and out of him just right… but that’s when Castiel’s hips suddenly stop, drawing a sound somewhere between a grunt of impatience and a whine for more from his throat.

“I know, I’m sorry, I need to slow down,” Cas says in way of explanation. “Can you turn over so I can see you?”

Dragging in big, ragged breaths has his head clearing enough for him to think clearly. “Thought you’d get off on seeing my back,” Dean quips, giving him a sideways glance in time to see him roll his eyes.

“Why do you think I was trying so hard not to look?” Castiel shoots back, getting a laugh out of him that quickly turns into a gasp as Cas pulls out and rolls him over. Then he’s got a thatch of dark hair between his legs as Cas lowers himself down to take his leaking cock into his hand. “Look how wet you are for me,” Cas says reverently, trailing a finger from base to tip. “You smell incredible.” And then his tongue is licking up the precum that’s smeared along his cock from him rutting into the pillow.

Dean calls out mindlessly, the sensation of Castiel’s hot mouth on his cock again every bit as good as he fantasized about for the last three months, and Cas sucks the swollen head between his plush lips without any further warning. Dean’s hands fly to his hair, fisting in his wind-swept locks as he watches Cas sink down his length. He makes some indistinguishable noise full of vowels and rapture seeing those pink lips stretched around him, and when Cas applies suction on the way back to the tip where he licks over it, Dean jerks into his mouth. Cas hums his permission and Dean takes it eagerly, fucking slow but deep into his mate’s mouth while Cas sucks and swirls his tongue around him.

“So good for me, baby,” he manages to pant. Cas hums again, the low timbre of his voice sending mind-melting vibrations down his length. Cas palms over Dean’s balls, squeezing them gently against his body and rolling them carefully, dragging another groan out of him that turns into a shout of pleasure when feels a feather ghosting along his perineum.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasps. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Everything working together has heat building inside of him much faster than he wants, so it’s with a groan of frustration that he says, “Fuck me!”

It feels like Cas is legitimately trying to suck his brains out as he slides the tight seal of his lips back up to the tip and drags his tongue over his slit, but he releases him with a filthy _pop_ , licks the saliva and precum from around his lips and says, “I would love to.”

The huff of laughter that comes out of him is muffled by Castiel’s lips covering his, and after a fresh burst of the scent of Castiel’s wing oil fills the room, Castiel is back in position between his legs. Anticipation shoots through him again, but then Cas gazes down at him and he’s pinned by the bluest eyes he’s ever seen, the eyes of the man he loves.

“Ohhhh god,” Dean moans, his chest pulling tight as he feels Cas slowly filling him up again. “God that’s good.”

“Unbelievable,” Cas agrees, a small smile curving his lips, their eyes still locked. “If you knew how often I thought of this. Seeing you like this. I want to watch every moment.”

He nods, because yeah, he understands that. He understands wanting to see the look on Castiel’s face as he makes love to him for the first time.

Dean takes the initiative to wrap his legs around his waist and pull him down for another long and languid kiss. “Make love to me, Cas.”

Castiel shudders but thrusts into him more gently than before, still punching the air out of his lungs as he _just_ brushes his prostate. Dean angles his hips down a tiny bit more and the next thrust connects fully, making him call out and toss his head back.

“Like that?” Castiel asks, needlessly as far as he’s concerned.

“Again,” Dean begs him, groaning again when he complies. “Yeah,” Dean encourages him. “Fucking perfect. Keep going. Just like that, sweetheart.”

Castiel works them both into a slow, lazy rhythm, nailing his prostate sporadically with panting breaths as his mouth alternates between kissing him breathless, moving along his neck, and sucking a necklace of hickies into his collarbone. Needing just a little bit more to get himself to the finish line, Dean gets up onto his elbow, reaching behind Cas for his preening glands, and rubs over them in order to slick up his hand.

Castiel lets out a guttural cry of pleasure, buries himself to the hilt in a single thrust so powerful he has to wrap an arm around Dean’s waist to keep him from falling back onto the mattress, and now Dean’s pulled almost entirely in his lap. With a smirk, he uses his core muscles to roll his hips and press his ass against Cas the next time he thrusts in, and meeting him mid-way has their bodies coming together with the filthy sound of skin slapping skin.

Cas lets out an animalistic growl and then Dean’s being pressed back into the nest, his back colliding hard with the mattress beneath him as Cas starts pounding into him.

 _“Fuck yes!”_ Dean calls out as he nails his sweet spot again. He’s getting fucked so good now he barely has the coordination to wrap his slicked up hand around his cock, but once he does, it’s his turn to make inhuman noises.

Cas glances down between them, gets an eyeful of Dean’s swollen cockhead sliding through his tight fist, and groans, _“Dean.”_

He knows that tone of voice, and he nods his head as he works over his cock, letting Cas know he hears what he’s not saying. “Yeah,” he breathes, his body tensing with anticipation. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”

Castiel tears his eyes away from where he’s furiously fucking his hand, and the combination of lust and love visible in his sky-blue eyes has emotion suddenly welling up inside of him. “I love you, Cas,” he gasps. “Castiel. I love you.”

“Dean,” Castiel sighs, smiling as he dips his forehead to rest on his. “How I love you.” Their lips brush once, he traces the seam of Castiel’s parted lips as he struggles to catch his breath, and then he feels Castiel’s hips stutter and begin to lose his rhythm.

“Gonna come in me? Mark my ass?” he asks him, nipping at Castiel’s lower lip, fully aware of the effect that’s going to have on his possessive angel.

Like he pressed a button to make it happen, Cas locks up and buries himself deep inside of him with a forceful thrust. He has to fight the instinct to close his eyes as his sweet spot gets nailed again head-on because he wants to see this. He wants to memorize the way Castiel’s eyebrows have gone from pinched together with concentration to smoothed out with bliss, the way his wings fly up to arch over his head, huge and powerful, the tips glittering with gold. The way his pink lips fall open in gasps of breath he can’t even hear anymore over the pounding of his heartbeat in his head, and how those beautiful dark eyelashes never quite shut all the way, as if Cas wants to remember the expression on his face too. He feels Castiel’s muscles tense, his hips slamming hard against the backs of his thighs as Cas finds his peak and spurts hot and wet with a broken cry of Dean’s name.

Already so close to coming himself and turned on beyond belief by the breathtaking sight of Cas letting go, it only takes a few brutal strokes of his engorged cock until he feels his body tensing. Their eyes lock again, faces only scant inches apart, and then Dean would swear he’s drowning, powerful waves rolling from the outside in, crashing into him as the overwhelming intensity of Castiel’s blue gaze swallows him whole.

Soft feathers bring him back, raining down along his skin, brushing his collar bone, flicking over nipples, and - _oh fuck_ \- Cas presses his wing between his legs. It stimulates his cockhead as he thrusts through his fist again and into the fluttering feathers, and he comes like a geyser. He clamps down on the cock inside of him, dragging another moan from Cas as Dean’s free hand scrambles for something to clamp down on. He finds a wing bone and grasps it desperately as he rides out the crest of pleasure, spilling into his mate’s wings and over the back of his hand.

He complains with a rough noise in his throat when Cas pulls out so quickly, but then Cas is between his legs again and he hears him choke out, _“Oh.”_

Dean pries his eyes open to see Cas staring at where his cum is currently seeping out of his ass, and he flicks his eyes back up to Dean’s briefly before he runs two fingers through the mess dripping out and fingers it back in. The intimacy is confusing, making him crave more at the same time his body bucks at the intrusion, the wet, squelching sound sending a strong wave of forbidden desire through him, and another bead of cum oozes out of his cock. Cas is on it in an instant, licking over his cockhead gently but still making him jerk and push his head away.

“Ah! Stop! Too much, too much, _fuck,”_ he rasps.

Cas twirls his fingers once more, as if he’s rubbing his cum along his insides, and then pulls them out and wiggles back up between his legs with a satisfied smirk on his face. Dean curls his fingers into his wild hair and kisses the look right off of his lips. Cas collapses on top of him with a drawn-out, satisfied sigh, his wings flattened out on either side of them and his nose pressed snugly to his neck.

“You were right, Dean,” he says once they’ve both caught their breath. “It was amazing. So much more than I ever dreamed of. I know you’re going to complain about me being corny -”

“Here we go,” Dean says good-naturedly.

“But I also know you secretly love it,” he says, pushing up to his elbow to glare down at him with a challenging look that effectively shuts him up. Because as much as he’d never admit it aloud, it’s absolutely true. “So thank you. Thank you for sharing everything you have with me. Your money, your house, your heart, and now your body.” Dean runs his hands soothingly through his alula feathers, already at a loss for words. “I never thought I would feel as connected to anyone as I do with you right now. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d have a mate, and certainly not one as perfect as you are. Now I have _more_ than everything I’ve ever wanted and it’s all because of you. I hope you know my love for you is truly endless.”

“Cas,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “You gave me just as much. You make _our_ house a home. When you’re not here, it’s just a pile of wood without you,” he admits. “And we’re mates now, for life, right? So what’s mine is yours, now and always,” he promises, kissing him gently. Then, at risk of actually crying with how full his heart is, he lightens the mood in self defense. “Especially when it comes to sex like we just had,” he says with a playful wink, making Cas chuckle. “Still think you needed pointers, angel?”

Castiel’s laugh turns into what can only be described as a giggle, and he snuggles back into Dean’s neck, places a kiss to his throat. “No, not really. I’m fairly positive it doesn’t get much better than that.”

Since he still has one hand in Castiel’s hair, he skirts the other from his alulae to run across his wing, causing it to arch into his touch with a happy sigh from his mate. He’s literally got his hands full of the person he loves more than anything, and a blinding joy shoots through him from head to toe when he realizes this is it, this right here is his happy ever after. “Doesn’t get much better than this, period.”

But as these few blissful moments turn into days filled with laughter, months filled with happiness, and ultimately many, _many_ years filled with love, he finds those words are utterly untrue.

Because decades later, they’re both old and grey, sitting outside at their cabin on their Adirondack chairs with two wooden mugs held in their hands. He’s covered up in a blanket Cas knit him back when his fingers could work for hours without seizing up, leaning into Castiel’s warmth beside him, gazing up at the mountain across the lake with a wing wrapped securely around his back. As he finishes his morning coffee, a ray of sunlight peeks out from behind a cloud and shines down on them like a spotlight.

“Doesn’t get much better than this,” Cas says, making him smile.

He drops his head onto Castiel’s shoulder for a moment - much more frail now than it used to be but still just as comforting as always - and he agrees again, even knowing without a doubt that every day with his mate by his side _will be_ better than the last. Because that’s precisely the way it’s been since the day they met so long ago, when Cas taught him to start expecting the good things in life instead of the bad. Dean shares a loving smile with him before Cas buries his nose in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of happiness that must be pouring off of him in waves. As his fingers slot between Castiel’s alula feathers, he lets his eyes drift shut, content with the knowledge that as the end of his life draws near, he’s accomplished everything he’s ever wanted to, all because he knows Cas is every bit as happy as he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That wraps up the end of another fic! If you've been following along from the beginning, please know your comments and kudos have encouraged me to keep writing, so thank you! If you enjoyed this story, please don't hesitate to share with your friends :)
> 
> I had some problems recently with my Twitter account recently, so if you wondered where I disappeared to all of the sudden, that's why! You can now follow me on my personal account [here](https://twitter.com/tricia_16__) or my fanfic account [here,](https://twitter.com/tricia_16fanfic) where I often talk about my stories and ask for input. I LOVE getting to know the people who read my stuff, so please don't be shy!
> 
> Thank you all! <3


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